


Animorphs: New War - #62 The Blackmail

by Adam2810



Series: Animorphs: New War [8]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Andalites, Betrayal, Blackmail, Espionage, Europe, Gen, Hork-Bajir, Infiltration, Luxembourg, Post-War, grass, morphing plants, secret documents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam2810/pseuds/Adam2810
Summary: After the war, Cassie chased a new life. She worked in Yellowstone with the Hork-Bajir, and she fell in love. She bought a home and moved in with Ronnie, and she thought that her fight was over. But recently, the Animorphs returned, and with a heart full of guilt she chose to help them. Suddenly, she's a part of it all once more.The Animorphs are now fugitives, and the Andalites are after them. When two Andalite Officers arrive to meet Cassie at the Yellowstone Centre, they demand to know where the Animorphs are hidden. If she doesn't tell them, she becomes their next target...





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

We had returned home from yet another cross-nation trip. Something about home always warmed me, no matter how thick the snow was outside. The deep mahogany of the walls and the furnishings made it feel almost like being inside a log cabin. The ceiling was tall, and held up with sporadic wooden pillars that you would have to weave around to navigate the open-plan first floor. The flickers of the fire cast them into orange and shadows, and the colours danced around the rest of the room in juxtaposition to the quiet and calm atmosphere. It was always quiet. Always calm. There was a TV, and a radio, but they’d been covered by thick blankets for so long that I couldn’t even remember where they were. My TV was the vast landscape of Yellowstone, and my radio was the chirping of the birds.

But now, the landscape was grey with cloud, and the birds were retiring for the Winter. If it weren’t for the few who would occasionally visit, Ronnie and I would sit in almost pure silence.

It was all such a contrast to the busy work life I led. If I wasn’t in Yellowstone, I was in some big city, in front of news conferences or in stuffy, drawn-out meetings with people I barely knew past a tentative name. From California to Maine I was dragged, bouncing from either side like a bearing in a pinball machine. There were pits and holes, achievements and failures, but only occasionally would I escape past the player’s merciless pads to the sanctuary of home. Only for another quarter to be inserted into the machine barely a moment later.

And yet, the busy life I led was a comfort. A guilty comfort. It was a Scandinavian prison sentence. I was an _Animorph_, and yet I was not with them. At this point, I guess you could call me an ex-_Animorph_. Ax was still missing, and the others were on a long, maze-like mission to find him. And I had to stay here, in relative comfort. If they died, it would be only me left.

So what role did I fulfil now? If I was no longer one of them, what was my use? I couldn’t save Ax. My role with the Hork-Bajir was diminishing as Toby grew into the position. Helping the Andalites now felt hollow and undeserved. It felt like I was slipping into some kind of limbo, of no use to anybody but still with a reputation to uphold.

There were small things, I guess. I spent what little free time I had caring for the local wildlife. Just like I always had. It brought me joy, and there was no greater feeling than seeing a sickly creature springing back into the wilderness with a bright future ahead once more.

My friends, too. They kept me a little bit sane. Sometimes.

“So I told him, like, _oh my god, really_?! _You’re dumping her because of the way she styles her hair_?! And he was, like, _no way! I’m dumping her because she’s so damn possessive_!”

Clarissa. What a mystery. Leaning forward on one of the sofas that lay parallel in front of the grand fireplace, her jewellery jangling on her wrists, hooped earrings swaying back and forth like baubles on a tremoring Christmas tree. She wore the latest brand-name clothing, and just the right amount of makeup to make her stand out in any crowd. I was sitting beside her, trying so hard not to choke on the perfume that radiated from her so thick that I swore I could see it rising as a cloud.

Despite the eccentricity of her appearance, though, she was nothing less than a reliable, capable friend. I just wished she’d stop talking for once…

Toby was almost her direct contrast. She was on the adjacent sofa, her left side shrouded in orange and her right in shadow. An average sized Hork-Bajir, she was seven-feet of scales and razor blades. And no matter how much Clarissa insisted, jewellery and makeup was not among her priorities. In the midst of another one of Clarissa’s epic tales, she looked just about ready to end it all.

Clarissa was Toby’s new supervisor. She would escort Toby whenever she left Yellowstone, and though on the surface they were polar opposites, they were satisfied with each other’s company. Opposites attract, I suppose. They valued each other’s skills far more than they disapproved of their flaws.

I always found it funny when Toby tolerated her ramblings enough to allow their continuation; no matter how drained and lost she looked when she did. “What happened next?” She asked dryly.

“He dumped her!” Clarissa said. “And I had to deal with the tears, you know? She kept saying _oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe he dumped me, _and I was like, _come on Anna, just forget about him and move on!_”

Toby had no other questions on the matter. He slit-pupil eyes looked to me, practically begging me to change the subject.

Thankfully, Ronnie arrived at just the right time. He strolled in from the kitchen, wearing his favourite red-checkered shirt and scruffy jeans. His smile greeted me, specifically. He was warmer than the fire, brighter than its glow.

I had known him for years. We met when I first moved to Yellowstone. We were both working on a project to open up a new Hork-Bajir education shelter near the border of their home. When the local Hork-Bajir became curious, he started an impromptu tuition on how to keep warm on stormy nights. The way he talked to them, and the way he interacted with them… I fell for him immediately. We moved into this new home together a couple years back, and together we worked to give the Hork-Bajir the peace and safety that they deserved.

“Hey,” He said to the three of us in greeting. “How was DC this time?”

“It was great!” Clarissa chirped. “I got a new sweater and this _gorgeous_ pair of boots. And I swear to God I saw Bill Clinton. He looked so old, didn’t he Cassie?”

“I think that was just an old man.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“No way! It was definitely Bill!”

I chuckled. “So where was Hillary?”

“I don’t know! Probably still angry about the whole impeachment thing.”

Ronnie was finding it rather amusing. “Okay, so you got a sweater and some boots and saw Bill Clinton. Anything else?”

Clarissa shrugged and collapsed back into the sofa. “Nothing, really.”

“Seriously?” He chuckled. “You were out there for four days.”

“Most boring four days of my life!” Clarissa groaned.

“Didn’t you say that about Seattle?” Ronnie asked.

“We’ve got a new record-setter.” Clarissa smiled.

Ronnie sat beside me, and placed his arm behind my shoulders. I gladly shuffled in closer, feeling his warmth grace my side. He said, “Bet you wish you could go back to Tokyo, huh?”

“I know!” Clarissa blurted excitedly. “Oh my god, they’re so _weird_, but I loved it! They kept calling you Godzilla!” She said to Toby.

“That joke got old very quickly.” She uttered.

Clarissa laughed, “Your faces didn’t. I ought to get those pictures framed.”

“Oh, please don’t…” Toby said, shaking her head.

“I’ll take one. Or ten.” Ronnie joined in. I gave him a playful jab in the side.

“Well,” Clarissa continued after another bout of loud giggling. “We’re going to New York next. _Grumpy_ has a gathering to go to. Full of rich and famous people, you know?”

“When’s that?” Ronnie asked.

“Couple weeks from now,” Clarissa said. “But Toby’s got some lectures to do before that. Got to take her to a few universities. I don’t get paid enough.”

“I pay you with my company.” Toby insisted with the slightest upturn of her lips – insofar as they could be called lips.

“Anything to see you smile.” Clarissa said cutely. “You remember New York, right? Remember the Bark Surprise?”

Toby huffed. “How could I forget? Oak bark with a smattering of leaves…”

“Fake leaves.” Clarissa noted.

“Yes… I found that out very quickly.”

I smiled reassuringly to Toby. “Someday, we’ll find a good menu for you.”

She nodded. “I’m not too irritated. I can imagine bark is not a common delicacy in the US.”

“I don’t know how you can eat the stuff,” Clarissa said, sticking out her tongue. “What if it gets stuck in your teeth?”

“I get you to pull it out.” Toby stated factually.

“You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

Toby grinned, bearing those white teeth (that Clarissa had _ensured_ would be white). “Perhaps.”

There was a beeping from the kitchen area. Looking past a wooden pillar, I saw the progress of Ronnie’s cooking. He loved to make food. He unravelled from me and got up to tend to it. “Hope you’re all hungry. I’m cooking vegetable lasagne.”

“He’s so sweet!” Clarissa squeaked to me. “Zak can’t cook for shit. Guy couldn’t even figure out a toaster.”

Zak was Clarissa’s boyfriend. Sorry… “_Boyfriend_”.

I never knew what to believe with her. Truth was indistinguishable from lie. I wasn’t sure if I even believed the _Anna_ story. I just played along. What else could I do?

“Dinner will be ready in five!” Ronnie called as he attended to some steaming vegetables.

Clarissa reached down towards the fire and picked up a piece of kindling. She threw it over and into Toby’s lap. “There’s yours.”

“Very funny.” Toby grumbled light-heartedly.

The ringing of my home phone followed the exchange. I insisted on answering, but Clarissa was closer and took the incentive. She lifted the phone to her ear, and in a receptionist voice, said, “Hello! This is Cassie and Ronnie’s home, Clarissa speaking!”

Toby and I exchanged amused glances.

Toby had no idea, yet. Which was good. Clarissa had given off no clues so far, but part of me knew that Toby would suspect something soon. She was one of the most insightful people I knew.

I hated that we had to keep the truth from her. She would never lie to me. She wouldn’t lie to anybody. But I knew that even if she found out, she would hold nothing against me, or any of them. She’d find a way to take on the information and run with it, and I’d be left to feel silently guilty. After all these years, she still saw us as her saviours; the Gods that showed mercy upon her people and granted them their freedom when nobody else would.

Oftentimes, she would remind me. Usually out of nowhere, out of context. It was always hard to pinpoint her emotional state because of her stone-cold demeanour, but such displays would overpower her hard casing. From nowhere, she would offer me thanks. It was very rare, but always noticeable when it happened. I got the feeling that whenever she felt her worst, she would seek any positive she could, and the realisation that things could be so much worse would bring from her such emotional waterfalls.

There was a little pleasure I could steal from those moments. They were reminders of what good I had done. I had to seek the positives, too.

“Oh, hi!” Clarissa called into the phone. She gave me a curious sideways glance that gave me a good indication that it was no ordinary call. “Uh huh. Yeah.”

I turned my head to Ronnie. He was still busy with the food. I hoped this would be nothing bad.

“Okay,” Clarissa said. “Talk soon. Bye!”

Toby and I looked to her. Her cheery smile had dropped away entirely. I felt the tingling of dread.

“Who was it?” I asked.

She whispered, “Ely.”

I took a deep breath and prepared for whatever was to come. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s Sten.” Clarissa replied.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I knew Sten. I also knew of his issues. I could picture quite clearly what had happened without her even needing to explain. We would have to leave. Vegetable lasagne would have to wait.

Ronnie began laying the dinner table that was halfway between the kitchen and lounge spaces, none the wiser. The three of us got up from the sofas, ready to leave. I would be the one to break it to him. I stepped over sheepishly and leaned against the table beside him as he placed down the cutlery around plain white plates. He caught on immediately and stopped.

His saddened brown eyes looked into mine. “Who was on the phone?”

I looked away from him, down at the mahogany table. “It was… It was Hayley. We’re needed at HQ.”

“All of you?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, Ronnie. Truly, I am.”

Now he turned away, and rubbed slowly at his face. He caught a glimpse of Clarissa and Toby as they made their apologetic exits through the front door and out into the blustery Yellowstone air.

“Cassie, I’m…” He started once the door had closed. He said nothing more, only dropping the rest of the cutlery indiscriminately on the table.

“I’m sorry.” I repeated. I felt pathetic. I felt like a liar. It was like, through no fault of his own, he was being punished.

“No, no,” He said. “I get it. I get it. You have… things. Priorities.”

“You’re one of my priorities,” I insisted. “This is just one of those things I have to take care of urgently.”

He placed both hands on the table and dipped his head. He didn’t know how to put what he wanted to say into the best words. “Sometimes I just want to know… I want to know what’s going on. You know that I trust you, but… I think there’s stuff going on that I’m not allowed to know. I know that the rest of the _Animorphs_ are out there. I know deep down that it’s something to do with them, Cassie. Am I right?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “You are.”

He pursed his lips and took a moment. “You… Y-you’re not going to get arrested, right? You’re not working with… I mean, you’re not helping them, are you?”

“It’s not about them, Ronnie.”

“Are they here? Are they in Yellowstone?”

“…Yes.”

“Ah, geez,” He sighed, coming away from the table and putting his hands behind his head in frustration. “Right on our doorstep? Cassie, they’re wanted as criminals.”

“We need to find Ax,” I said, plucking the truthful excuse. “That’s why I’m helping them.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” He groaned. “I love you, Cass, and I don’t want you to get hurt or arrested. I also want you to stop hiding these things from me.”

Again, I repeated pathetically, “I’m sorry…”

He dropped his arms limply to his sides. “Just promise me that nothing bad is going to happen. I thought you were past all this.”

“I was. And I promise,” I answered weakly. “As soon as we find Ax, it’s over. I can’t just do nothing while he’s lost somewhere.”

Ronnie seemed to accept that. He nodded slowly. “You never told me where you went. When you went missing for days.”

“I was with them.” I admitted, without spilling the full truth.

“When the Kelbrid War started? Were you there?”

I froze momentarily again. “Yes…”

“You could have been killed.” He spoke with unnerving quietness.

“I should have told you,” I said. “I know that I should trust you more.”

“Then trust me.” He said quickly, looking me in the eyes again. “I’d rather know. I get scared when I don’t know.”

“Okay. I will.”

“Where are you going now?” He pressed, having been granted my full trust.

“We’re going to their house. Sten is there. He’s acting up.”

He searched his memory. “Sten? Sten Arhif? What’s he doing there?”

“He’s acting as sentry. We’re making sure nobody stumbles across them.”

I could see his disapproval in his shift of stance. We both knew Sten and his condition, but without full context, Ronnie would find it more difficult to understand why we’d expose him to the risk. “Why Sten? He’s not well. He’s not well at all!”

“He’s fine,” I assured. “He’s fine. He’s happy to do the job.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. The guy needs help. We need to _help_ him.”

“And we will.”

He nodded again. He knew there was little point in continuing. “Want me to save you some lasagne?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

We shared a reassuring kiss, and I grabbed my coat from the hangar. I didn’t look back as I left through the front door. I was too ashamed. I hated leaving him on his own, to eat his share of the dinner he’d made without anybody’s company. I pictured it in my head, and it broke my heart.

This was the first time he’d said anything. He’d stuck by my side for so long, and put up with all my crap far more than anybody else would have. And all I did was hurt him. Again and again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

We took my pickup down towards the cabin where the others had set up camp. The large vehicle was the best to handle the off-road sections. The old road that hadn’t been used since the house was abandoned was overgrown, so much that it barely looked anything other than just another stretch of greenery. Toby jumped out of the pickup and took to the trees, easily able to keep up the pace while eliminating the danger of slicing either me or Clarissa if we hit a sudden bump. It was growing dark outside as the night rolled in, but she was close enough to be guided by our headlights as they illuminated an endless passage of trees and leaves. We passed by one of Sten’s sentries, and we were satisfied that, despite whatever had happened, his role was still being fulfilled.

Clarissa and I could have morphed. It would mean leaving Toby behind, though, and we thought it best that she came along. Sten would need a Hork-Bajir face to help calm him. I’d witnessed one of his outbursts before, shortly after the war when newly-freed hosts started to arrive sporadically. Of all the things to trigger his PTSD, an abrupt sneeze of one of my co-workers had started it off.

It wasn’t just him. Much of my job now was spent dealing with the after-effects of war for the Hork-Bajir. So shockingly mistreated in those years, they had a large proportion of mental health sufferers among them. Sten was nowhere near the worst case I’d dealt with. It was a role that brought me so much despair, and yet simultaneously so much joy.

I was bracing myself for some despair, and hoping for eventual joy, tonight.

We arrived at the old house. In the narrow headlights, the upgrades the place had gone through were apparent. It used to be crumbling and broken, with smashed windows and broken bricks scattering like dandruff. It’s progression to something close to liveable was impressive, and they had Ely to thank for that. He was old and slow, but, by god, he was capable. He’d told me of the jobs he’d had before becoming Marco’s butler: Plasterer, plumber and once a builder in his earliest working days. He was a true DIY genius.

The headlights settled on the newly-painted front door as the engine stuttered to a stop. Toby’s intimidating figure landed with a thump in their path, her spiky shadow coating the house. Clarissa and I exited the vehicle and immediately shook from the cold. With luck, Ely would have kept the place warm while everybody else had been gone.

Toby was the first to the door, and she gave it a firm three knocks. We had to have patience for the shambling Ely to reach us from whichever part of the place he was in. When he arrived, he sluggishly opened the creaky door, his thick spectacles glowing in the headlights. Behind him, there was the glow of dim gas lamps most commonly used for camping.

“Good evening,” He greeted politely. “Miss Roberts, Mrs Hamee, Miss Gerard.”

“Gerard?” Toby was quick to catch.

Clarissa laughed. “Check yer specs, Ely. I don’t think we’ve met in person.” She held out a dainty hand. “Clarissa Holmes.”

“My apologies, Miss Holmes,” Ely corrected. “Please, do come in.”

He turned and steadily allowed us room to enter, closing the door behind. The air was warm, and that was incredibly welcoming. How he kept a building with so many holes this well was a mystery.

It would have seemed tranquil, were it not for the scattering of assorted, broken items on the floor. Broken plates, pots, and shadows of spilt flour and sugar ruined the makeshift rugs and carpeting. The stained old sofa that was the main gathering point of the house was now scarred with tears. The TV had fortunately escaped unscathed.

Ely was wearing some kind of apron, and in one hand he carried a dustpan and brush. The presence of two half-full trash bags indicated that he had been cleaning up the mess.

“Wow…” Clarissa gasped. “He trashed the place!”

I looked over Ely. His posture was subtly stilted. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Roberts.” He replied with a slight bow. He’d yet to grow out of the deferential habits that he’d gotten used to for years.

I wasn’t so sure. I looked closer. On his second-hand purple cleaning apron, I saw the hint of crimson. A hand instinctively came to my mouth. “You’re hurt,” I said. “Take off your apron.”

“Yes, Miss Roberts,” He said, before starting to undo the piece of clothing. When it became apparent that he wasn’t rushing, Clarissa zipped behind him and started to do it herself.

The apron came away, and the hint of crimson became a bloodied stain on his white shirt, just below his chest and a little to his right. I reached forward and unbuttoned the shirt adjacent to the wound.

“Miss Roberts, it’s nothing to worry about.” He said.

“Ely, come on,” I grumbled. “Stop with the politeness. You’re hurt.”

I exposed his torso, pulling away the sticky shirt. Three large cuts were striped down his side. Swipes of a Hork-Bajir claw. The wounds weren’t deep, thankfully, and they were healing. Blood was no longer seeping out. The most worrying part of it all, was the fact that the wounds were there in the first place.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“Only slightly, Miss Roberts.”

“No more cleaning,” I told him. “Sit down in the kitchen. I’ll get the First Aid box.”

Then Toby asked, “Is Sten still here?”

“I didn’t hear him leave, Mrs Hamee.” He replied.

“We’ll go find him,” Clarissa offered. “Can’t hear him, so maybe he calmed down.”

She and Toby moved out to find Sten. It wasn’t a big house, so it wouldn’t take them long. Meanwhile, I led Ely into the kitchen and pulled out a wooden chair for him. He sat down with a pained grunt. It irked me that he was too concerned with those he considered to be his employers to worry about his own well-being. I told him to move his shirt out of the way so that I could inspect the entire injury.

It must have happened about an hour-and-a-half ago, so far as I could tell. Each cut was about eight inches long. Just claws, like Sten had swung unintentionally and caught him. I couldn’t imagine it would help Sten’s emotional state. If Sten had _really _tried to hurt Ely… Well, let’s just say there’d be a lot more than flour and smashed plates to clean up.

As I started to clean the wounds, I searched him for explanations. “So what happened? What set this off?”

He fiddled with his specs and cleared his throat. “I was making apple pie, Miss Roberts, for when the others return home. Mr Arhif offered to help me prepare the ingredients. I can’t recall how much he did… I was attentive to the pastry preparation, Miss Roberts.”

“Okay, okay. What caused his outburst?”

“I can’t be too sure. I was batting the eggs into the flour. I turned around, and he was behind me. He was… still. His face was frightening. I thought he’d seen a ghost, Miss Roberts.”

“And then…?”

“He started to throw things, Miss Roberts. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but I fear I approached too close.” He looked down shakily at the wounds across his torso.

I sighed sorrowfully. There was no definite answer to the question. Only Sten could explain what had spooked him so much, but there was a risk of starting the terror all over again.

I finished cleaning his wound and proceeded to wrap bandages around him. He wanted to keep cleaning, and at first I told him no. Then I changed my mind. He enjoyed it, everybody could tell. He wouldn’t rest if the home was spoilt. We both walked back into the main living space, where he’d start again.

One of the first things I noticed when I scanned the floor was that numerous plastic food bags had been ravaged. From some, flours and sugars were spilt, like they had been disembowelled. They must have been his main focus, for whatever reason.

“Found him,” came Clarissa’s distant voice. It had come from upstairs.

“Stay down here,” I told Ely. “Just keep cleaning for now. We’ll send him back home when we can.”

“Yes, Miss Roberts.”

“And for God’s sake, stop being so formal.”

I trudged up the creaky staircase. It had been cleaned so well in recent weeks, the cobwebs removed and the railings polished. A couple photo frames now decorated the wall on the ascent, pictures of California landscapes, a reminder of the home they’d left behind. Now, the clean and tidy steps were sprinkled with the remnants of the flour bags. The railings were scraped and scratched.

The sprinklings become footprints when I reached the second floor. Big, dinosaur footprints. Soon, they faded as the flour was left behind, and by the time I’d reached the end of the corridor, at a junction to three different rooms, they had vanished entirely. The whispered talking of Toby and Clarissa alerted me to the correct room, and I entered through the door straight ahead. It led to a spare room. Spare, because it was so badly damaged in the house’s abandoned years that it would take more than a feather duster and some wood polish to fix. It was the biggest source of leaks when the rain came, and Ely had only recently managed to block it off.

The room was empty, but for a few unwanted pieces of furniture piled up against the innermost wall. Below the dirty, cracked window at the far side, there was a large hole where the floorboard had been rotted and ripped away from years of neglect. Toby and Clarissa were beside the large hole, and I suddenly realised where he was hiding.

“Is he down there?” I asked them.

They didn’t need to answer. Below my feet, as I stepped into the centre of the room, there was a bump and a scrape. Something moved beneath the floorboards.

“Why did he…?” I groaned.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Clarissa said.

“Have you tried speaking to him?”

“Yes,” Toby replied. “But he’s not thinking clearly. He’s refusing to come out.”

I wanted to see for myself. Clarissa had a small flashlight in hand, and she offered it to me when she knew of my intentions. I stepped to the edges of the broken floorboards and looked down. There was a small drop, little more than a foot, to a second layer. It must have been for insulation purposes. I shone the flashlight down to the dirty, slightly damp surface, and then bent down to inspect further.

On my knees, I could see right through between the two layers. It was segmented by wooden supports, a couple of which had been broken. How he could have squirmed in there was a mystery, but he must have been incredibly determined.

He had even managed to turn around. My flashlight hit his face. He was wedged in cosily, far from arm’s reach. His slit pupils were heavily dilated, and his mouth was ajar with intense breathing. He looked truly terrifying, like something out of some horror movie. His great claws were gripped to the lower floorboards, his back pressed to the upper.

“Sten,” I spoke calmly. “It’s me, Cassie.”

He stared, his posture remaining. It wasn’t going to be easy to talk him down.

“We’re here to help, Sten. Let us help you.”

His mouth closed, but that was the only changed. I thought of it as a positive, his breath easing.

Clarissa stepped down into the hole beside me and sunk her head to my level. “It’s safe up here. We can get you some water.”

His pupils shifted to her, and he finally blinked. Still, he was unsure. “Toby Hamee mad at Sten.” He whimpered.

“I’m not, Sten,” She said from above. “Why would I be? Please, come out.”

“Sten do bad…”

“You haven’t,” I told him softly. “We know you’re scared, but there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Clarissa added, “You need to get back to your family, you know. I bet they miss you right now.”

It seemed to be working. His claws had unfurled, and movement was coming back. “Sten hurt Ely.”

“Ely’s fine,” Clarissa chuckled. “The guy loves the extra cleaning.”

“Sten do bad…” He repeated, like he didn’t believe us.

I passed the flashlight back to Clarissa, and reached a hand into the gap towards him. “Come on up, Sten. It’s freezing up here; we’ll get you back into the warm. We want to help.”

Slowly, he moved his hand forward and gently took mine. I clutched his fingers comfortingly.

“You going to come up?” I asked.

“Sten come.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” I said, smiling.

Clarissa and I retreated up from the hole and waited for Sten to painfully squeeze himself from the gap. He was silent, despite the discomfort, almost ashamed with himself. We both helped him to stand by taking his big bladed arms, and he was as slow and gentle as any normal Hork-Bajir. But his head was sunk, his eyes troubled.

He stepped out from the hole onto the old floorboards, and we helped to swipes away the cobwebs and dust. There was another plastic food bad stuck to one of his elbow blades, and he had something that looked like flour around his snout, like he had been ingesting it. Toby stepped forward out of the shadows, and carefully wiped at it with her thumbs. He waited sheepishly, unsure of her mood, but when she dropped her head forward to connect their head blades in a kiss, he seemed to calm, his stiff body becoming more relaxed.

“What happened?” She asked him quietly. “Did you see something?”

He was almost embarrassed to say, and his gaze averted from her. “Not know. Sten just remember things. Bad things. Things that Sten not want to remember.”

It was terrible, really. Sten had previously been a host for a Sub-Visser, back during the war. He’d never really explained what it was, but we were sure that he’d seen – or done – some terrible things. For him to be so easily riled up, it was certainly something that affected him deeply. We avoided asking, because we didn’t want to bring such memories flooding back.

“Clarissa,” I said. “Why don’t you take Sten downstairs for some water? Maybe get him a blanket, too.”

She nodded and took his big hand, wearing a gleaming smile. “Let’s go downstairs. Maybe watch some TV. You like TV.”

“Sten likes TV.” He confirmed.

They continue to talk as they left. Clarissa closed the door behind her, allowing me and Toby the privacy to talk the inevitable talk.

“It’s very concerning,” were her first words. I could see her mind tinkering with a few ideas.

“It started in the kitchen,” I explained. “Ely was making apple pie, and he was fetching ingredients. He just… froze.”

Toby knelt down and took the torn plastic bag that had been dropped. She flipped it over, observed it. “I suspect this may have played a part in it.”

“Bags of flour?”

She nodded, and dropped it back to the floorboards. “I dread to think why, but he clearly ate a lot of it. It was all around his mouth.”

I kicked at a mound of dust and placed my hands on my hips. “I mean… he’s doing his job fine. The sentries have done a good job so far.”

“I picked him because of how capable he is,” She said. “And his work ethic is superb.”

“But does this override all that?”

Toby looked to me contemplatively. She scratched at her long neck and hummed. “I may have underestimated how potentially dangerous he could be. Especially if his PTSD is triggered so easily.”

“I’ll sign him up to some more therapy sessions. Is there anybody that can take his place on those days?”

“I’m sure I could find somebody. We’ll send him home tonight, and I’ll stay with Ely. In the morning, I will brief the sentries and hire a temporary replacement. Sten needs a couple days to relax and calm down.”

“Poor guy…” I sighed. “I just wish we could help him more.”

“Some ailments are more difficult to cure than others.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The offices were busy as they had ever been at HQ. The lead up towards Christmas was a long and challenging ordeal. Certain things were expected in such a hot tourist area, especially since the Hork-Bajir were moved over. With so many people arriving every holiday season, it was a struggle to create enough events to keep them satiated. Not only that, but as the cold weather came in, the Hork-Bajir clinics would demand increased assistance, and that somehow fell upon us, even though we were a completely different organisation.

I always kept myself relatively distant, because I had other jobs to do. I worked with the Andalites a lot, too, and with the government. I never got tied down to one position, but some responsibility still came my way. Of course, I would have to do a speech this year at the main Christmas event. I did it every year, but on top of all that I was charged with organising the charity groups and companies that would be sponsoring us. The person who would usually do it had gone on maternity leave.

It meant that I spent more time away from home. I felt terrible for Ronnie, who might have to go through another Christmas hardly seeing me. His family all lived in Washington State, so it was always a tough decision for him to either go see them for the holidays or stay home in hope that we might find an evening together.

But I still got to enjoy Christmas. I had parties to attend, plenty of food and drink going around. HQ would always hold a wonderful dinner on Christmas Eve. I was surrounded by friends. Even my parents would pay a visit. In the back of my head, the others resided. They still hadn’t returned. Perhaps Christmas was something they would never truly experience again. It made me sad. I imagined that Surote and _Enrich_ were keeping them busy.

Maybe they were rescuing Ax. Maybe he would be saved before Christmas. They had his location, they had the technology… It was definitely feasible!

I was sitting at my temporary desk, surrounded by images of what I craved but couldn’t quite reach. Photo frames depicted me smiling with Ronnie in front of Niagara Falls and enjoying a well-deserved holiday in Thailand. A note was scribbled down on a post-it, saying _Friends will always be there for you. _

It felt like I was torturing myself. I lifted the papers just vomited out by the printer and blocked my view with them, tapping them down on the desk to straighten them into one neat pile.

“Cass, you spoken to Mr Ives?”

Lisa’s head popped up over my computer screen, the source of the voice. I gently placed down the pile of paper. “Mr Ives?”

“I forwarded an email to you. Mr Ives is the manager of the Yellowstone Centre Project.”

“I thought Mike was dealing with that.”

“Mike’s off sick.”

“Geez…” I groaned. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Lisa looked at me curiously, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes. “You okay?”

I pulled my desk phone closer, and then slid my mouse across the pad to open up my email account on the computer. “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay…” She said warily.

She disappeared back behind the computer, leaving me to my phone call. Mr Ives was the man in charge of planning for the new HQ: The Yellowstone Centre. It would be a modern improvement on the building we currently occupied. Yet again, another job that wasn’t intended to involve me. I got the call done as quickly as I could, barely exchanging any words that weren’t purely business. I put the phone down, and once more the desk became the loneliest place in the world.

The rest of the day was a blur of papers and computer screens that my subconscious mind innately trawled through. My soul did not follow along on the journey, taking a long snooze somewhere in the furthest recesses of my mind. At four-thirty, half an hour before it would be time to head into the park’s research building for a weather brief, I was tugged back into reality by the increasingly agitated calls of Lisa.

“Cass! Can you hear me?”

I bolted up, expanding my mind past the barriers of my cocoon. “Oh, sorry, Yeah.”

“You’re so absorbed in that stuff,” She chuckled. “I thought you’d gone deaf.”

“What’s the problem?”

“There are some Andalites here to see you. Don’t know why.”

Andalites? I wasn’t expecting any meetings. I retraced my memory to see if there was anything I’d missed, but nothing came to me. “Did they give you their names?”

Lisa shrugged. “No. Just said they were from the military police department. Know why they’re here?”

Suddenly, I thought that I did. However, I feigned ignorance, despite the shivers I felt inside. “No, no idea. Where are they now? I’ll go speak to them.”

I put away my paperwork and signed off from the computer. I thought that I wouldn’t use it again for the rest of the afternoon. Then, I steadied myself against the desk and took a deep breath. Somehow, I didn’t get the impression it would be a normal chat. The Andalite Military Police weren’t known for pleasant visits.

I met them at the reception desk. They saw me immediately with alert stalk eyes as I descended the stairs from the second floor, and turned to face me directly. They were most certainly military, with toned bodies and wickedly groomed tail blades. Their faces were stern and lacking in anything other than indoctrinated determination. One had a typical blue coat of fur, but the other was of a rarer breed, his fur so dark in blue that it was close to black. They were an intimidating pair.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted politely. “Can I help you?”

<Miss Roberts,> The darker Andalite said gruffly, his arms folded impatiently over his chest. <Might we speak somewhere private?>

“Uh, sure…” I said. Inside, I felt the coldest dread. I wondered just how bad this could turn out to be. Nevertheless, I tried to maintain my resolve and calm demeanour. I pointed to a room away to the side, the door closed. “Nobody in there.”

I led the way to the empty room, and they followed silently behind, but for the sound of hooves on the hard flooring. As I suspected, there was nobody in the room, and the lights were off. I flicked the switch as I entered, revealing the small space filled with nothing more than an empty desk and a couple seats. The room was mainly used for applicant interviews.

The Andalites closed the door behind us, and then remained on that side of the room. I accepted it as an invitation to take a seat on the other side of the desk, and prepared for whatever was to come.

“What can I do for you?” I asked as politely and innocently as I could.

The lighter-blue Andalite started. <Miss Roberts, I am Police First Officer Ahurk-Garrett-Kilesrett, and my colleague is Superintendent Hurpen-Esharroun-Eshill. We are here as representatives of the Andal Military Police.>

“It’s good to meet you.” I replied.

<Yes…> Ahurk said tentatively. <We are here to discuss important matters, Miss Roberts. This is not a casual visit.>

I nodded. “I didn’t think it would be.” My fingers tapped nervously on the table.

The pair approached closer, joining me at the table but standing tall. Ahurk continued, <As you know, your… _old colleagues_ are wanted by both Human and Andalite law enforcement for the stealing of two military-owned vessels. After recent events, they are also charged with being complicit in the outbreak of war with the Kelbrids and their allies.>

“I’ve heard about that.”

<Now, we need you to be honest with us, Miss Roberts,> He said forcefully. <We are recording this discussion. Whatever you say here with us will be kept on record. Tell me, where were you during the breach of the _Gratt_ Border?>

I had to be very careful. My words had to be deliberately chosen. They knew exactly where I’d been, so I couldn’t lie. “I was onboard a Mak vessel called _The Shadow_.” I replied.

<With whom?> Hurpen pressed.

I sighed inwardly. “I was with the remaining _Animorphs_.”

<Anybody else?>

“Jeanne Gerard. Colin Santorelli. Eddy Jameson.”

<Good…> Hurpen said. <Now, please, give us an overview of the events as they happened, to the best of your knowledge.>

I thought for a moment. I spoked slowly and purposefully. “Our mission was to rescue Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill from the Kelbrids. We’d heard from the Andalite military that he’d likely been taken by the Kelbrids. We met with War Commander Torceran on the Dome Ship _Rise from the Shadows, _and we were given a small Mak vessel for the purposes of legally entering Kelbrid Space with intention of locating Prince Aximili. The War Commander also charged us with the task of taking prisoner a Kelbrid military officer, for the purpose of negotiating a trade for Prince Aximili. We took a Kelbrid General back to the Dome Ship, as well as three soldiers. When it became clear to us that there would be… trade issues, we decided to take back the prisoner and conduct the trade ourselves. We took the prisoner to the _Gratt_ Border, when a Yeerk Blade Ship interfered and initiated fire between Andalite and Kelbrid parties. That was when the war started.”

<And you were complicit in these actions?> Ahurk asked.

“Yes.”

<What were these _trade issues _that you mentioned?>

What could I say? The soldiers had been disposed of, but if I admitted to knowing that, they’d know I’d been spying. Not only that, but I had no evidence. Any evidence they could have had would surely have been destroyed. These officers weren’t here to find dirt on the Andalites. They were here to get dirt on _me_. Any unsubstantiated claim I made could be deemed a lie, or an excuse. And, of course, the recordings of this meeting would no doubt be butchered.

Could I lie anymore?

“We had reason to believe that the Andalites had killed the three soldiers and tortured the Kelbrid General. We thought that this would lessen the chances of a successful trade with the Kelbrid military.”

Hurpen’s intimidating, dark eyes narrowed. <That is quite a claim. What evidence brought you to that conclusion?>

“When we took back the General, he was badly beaten. It was obvious that he’d been tortured. And we never saw the soldiers again.”

<Let’s get this straight,> Ahurk sighed. <You decided to take the Kelbrid because you suspected he’d been beaten. And you suspected he’d been beaten because of the injuries he bore when you took him. Miss Roberts, that makes no sense. Now, remember, we are recording this conversation, so any untruths that become obvious will reflect badly on you.>

I had no choice but to say it. “I saw where the Kelbrids were being held. I saw the General tied to a pole and beaten. He was being interrogated.”

<The Kelbrid prisoners were being held in a secure holding compartment,> Hurpen mentioned. <For the duration of their time on _Havit Norcuyz ep vit, _they were restricted to areas deemed off-limits to unauthorised personnel. Were you authorised personnel?>

“No.”

<So you accessed restricted areas aboard _Havit Norcuyz ep vit_ without permission of the appropriate authorities?>

“Yes.”

<Do you understand that that is an illegal action, Miss Roberts?>

“Yes.”

<And you were aware at the time?>

“Yes.”

<So you admit to your crime,> Ahurk hummed. <This is a very serious matter. As for your opinions on the fate of the Kelbrids, they are unfounded. The three Kelbrid soldiers were unharmed, and the Kelbrid General was being interrogated legally, according to the Military Interrogation Act, Chapter 8.>

I was angered by his words. He underestimated my knowledge. “The MIA Chapter 8 permits non-invasive interrogation methods. Brain scans, things like that. The Kelbrid was beaten.”

<Your claims are unfounded,> Hurpen seethed. <His injuries were caused by his struggles in his holding cell. They were self-inflicted.>

“That’s a lie,” I insisted. “I saw it myself! Where are the three soldiers?!”

Hurpen raised a hand and glared. <Miss Roberts, be calm.>

“Where are they?!”

<Having admitted to your criminal activities, we are not obliged to disclose such information to you. Miss Roberts, the crimes you have admitted to are severe. They carry heavy punishment. Imprisonment.>

I clutched my head in a shuddering hand. The worst scenario was coming true. “Is that it then? Am I under arrest?”

<Miss Roberts, we have stopped the recording of this conversation.>

I looked up, puzzled. The pair remained still and imposing. “Why?”

Ahurk placed his hands on the table, leaning towards me. <You are highly valued, Miss Roberts. Your imprisonment would be extremely regrettable. With that in mind, we are willing to drop the charges on you, provided that you supply us with some pertinent information.>

“Wait…” I choked. “Are you blackmailing me?!”

He skipped by my question like I hadn’t even asked it. <If you do not supply us with the information we require, then the charges against you will be made public, and you will be arrested and tried in accordance with the law of our people.>

“I can’t believe this,” I said under my breath. “I can’t believe this. You…”

<Where are the others?> Hurpen demanded.

“The others? Who?”

<The other Animorphs. They are not in California, where they were assumed to reside. You must know their whereabouts.>

“How would I know?” I growled. “I’m done with them. I went with them that one time and we went our separate ways.”

<Are they here? Are they in Yellowstone?>

“I don’t know!” I urged.

<We want them,> Ahurk said. <All of them. Even the bricklayer! If you do not supply us the information within ten Earth days, then we will come back for you.>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ronnie held me tightly. He held me like a child would clutch at his mother after the darkest nightmare. It was strange, because I had told him nothing. It was just him. It was just natural.

I felt his chest rising and falling against my own. I felt his arms, one hooked around my shoulder and the other beneath my arm, both wrapping so that his hands rested lovingly down my back. His warming breath formed a scarf around my neck, soothing like a winter blanket.

My own hands could feel his thick clothing, and the body beneath. He felt sturdy and strong. He always had been, but it was deceiving when I thought of his reason for the embrace. It was his fear. The fear of losing me to forces way, way out of his control. It frightened him to the point of cracking.

The embrace was a contract. It was an agreement between the two of us, signed and stamped, that we would do whatever we could to remain. It was an agreement to be truthful.

There were some truths that would remain hidden. Other things, I would have to be honest about, but only when the time was right.

When was I going to tell him that, in ten days, I could be going to jail? When was I going to tell him about being blackmailed by the Andalite military?

This man… this loyal, devoted man deserved more. I mean, he knew what he was getting into when he swooped me up in his arms. He knew of my history. He’d read books and seen documentaries of the war. He knew most of what I’d been through, and yet he loved me for _me_. He’d accepted my excuses and my absences without question up until now, but we had reached a threshold where things needed to change. I owed him so much. It was a mounting debt.

His clutch loosened. His arms slid away, but he moved his hands to my waist, still holding on. He looked into my eyes and smiled. “Don’t be sorry.”

I must have apologised without knowing it.

We dragged the TV out for the first time in a long while. I dusted it while Ronnie sought a mutual favourite movie to watch. We poured out glasses of wine, pressed play, and rested in each other’s presence to enjoy a peaceful moment together. It was comfortable, and for the briefest time I forgot about everything else in the world. All I knew was him and the glass clutched in my fingers…

And then it all fell away with three firm knocks on the front door.

Ronnie and I looked at each other, and then at the clock above the mantelpiece, just visible by the flickers of the roaring fire we had started to starve the cold.

“Who’s here at nine-thirty?” Ronnie asked warily.

“Clarissa, maybe?” I said, sluggishly getting up and placing my wine glass on the low table beside the sofa. It could have been her, but even she tended to allow us privacy at this time of the evening. She’d only be here if it was an emergency, and I was seriously not in the mood.

I skipped out of the living area and past the supporting pillar closest to the front door. Another three bangs hit the surface and escalated my anxiety. Please, oh please be something good…

I unlatched the door and pulled it open to the cold air. The exterior lamp showed me the unmistakeable shape of an Andalite, and I froze. But it was not either of the officers from earlier.

<We must talk.> Caysath said.

“Hello to you, too…” I grumbled. “Why are you here?”

<I’m here to discuss. Would you be so kind as to let us in? It’s very cold out here>

I shook my head, stunned at his insistence. “You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered. I knew Ronnie would begin paying attention before long. “If this isn’t an emergency, then you should go.”

<It _is _an emergency.>

I hesitated, glanced back over towards Ronnie who had indeed arched himself back to take a look from afar.

I had to be truthful. I wouldn’t hide it. “Okay. Okay, come in.” I said begrudgingly, fully opening the front door and stepping aside. Caysath eagerly trotted in, stepping over the doormat and landing hooves loudly on the laminate flooring. I moved to close the door, but then another figure stepped inside.

I recognised her… She was an Andalite I’d met just once before. On the Dome Ship, with Caysath. Our conversation was brief.

<Hello again.> She greeted as I finally managed to close the door.

“Hi…” I twiddled my fingers nervously, and I saw Ronnie approaching. He looked totally baffled. I also saw the slightest hint of betrayal when he glanced over at me.

“Hi,” He spoke to the two Andalites. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Ronnie Chambers, I live here with Cassie.”

He offered a hand to Caysath, whose stalk eyes examined it. He weakly shook Ronnie’s hand, and Ronnie then proceeded to exchange the shake with the female whose name I was trying to recall.

<This is Cadet Amara-Itiireae-Aelrue,> Caysath eventually said. <One of my students.>

<A pleasure to see you.> Amara added formally.

<You’ve met Cassie.> Caysath said to her.

She nodded lightly. <Yes. We’ve already been introduced.>

I stared at her, and then to Caysath, growing ever angrier at his presence. He used to be a warrior, but in his older years had been designated the equivalent of an office job. What was once a well-toned body was losing its sharpness. He had a ragged, worn appearance. Tired and bitter. In contrast, Amara was youthful and athletic, a glint of determination in her eyes.

Caysath turned one stalk eye to Ronnie. He then spoke privately to me. <This does not concern him.>

I couldn’t reply without speaking openly. Instead, I tried to get my point across with a stern expression. Ronnie wouldn’t be moving. “What is it, Caysath?” I asked.

His main eyes narrowed at me. <It regards our mission. Is this Ronnie privy to such information?> He asked, privately again. I nodded, just enough to grant him an answer. With that, he continued to speak to all. <I would not normally come here, with the situation as it is, but I’ve been trying and failing to contact the others for days now. Days!>

I leaned up against the wooden support post and crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe they don’t want to speak to you.”

He snorted, annoyed. <When I try to communicate, I expect a response. This is no game.>

“I don’t know where they are, either,” I said, a half-truth. “Why do you need them?”

<Because I don’t want to suffer through another damn war!> He blurted. <If it weren’t for this, I could be retired in a year. But no, another war breaks out! Why do I need them? Because I want them to put an end to this madness!>

“Nobody wants this war. Most people…” I said sadly. “But how do you think they’ll be able to stop it?”

<By taking down that Kelbrid contraption! The One! By rescuing Prince Aximili from their dirty hands.>

I shook my head. “But… that won’t work, Caysath! We can’t negotiate a trade. The War’s already started, and we don’t know how to destroy The One.”

He shuffled uneasily on his hooves. I saw him glance at Ronnie again. Something was up.

<It will help.> He insisted.

“The Andalites can take out The One themselves,” I added. “They have far more to help them do it than we do. And take Ax back. With the border breached, what’s to stop them from going to _Kyritlyp_? They have the coordinates… from us.” I said the last words with a not-so-subtle bitterness.

He was running out of options. He looked to Ronnie again and stuttured.

“Why are you _really _here?” I pressed.

He hesitated. I assumed he then spoke privately, but did nothing to hide it. <They are coming for you. They will try to take answers from you. The War Commander will stop at nothing to detain the Animorphs. They’ve embarrassed him, damaged his reputation. He will not rest until those who betrayed him are locked away!>

“I know,” I said, caring not for privacy. “Two officers approached me today.”

Ronnie shot me a look. Caysath was on the verge of full-on panic. He rushed to the nearby window and flung the curtains shut. <Oh no, oh no… We can’t be seen here. I can’t be seen around you. What did they ask you?!>

“They want the other Animorphs. Everybody who was aboard _The Shadow._” I explained. “They have given me ten days.”

<Ten days?!>

“Ten days? For what?” Ronnie asked, disbelief coating him.

I had no choice but to tell him. I was going to when the time was right… Was there ever a right time? “Two Andalite officers came to me at work. They said… They said that I needed to pass on their location within ten days, or they will prosecute me.”

Ronnie was understandably shocked. “But… B-but that’s blackmail! They can’t do that!”

I stared down at my feet. “I’m complicit in criminal activity. I don’t know if it can really be called blackmail. I don’t know…”

Now Ronnie was angry. “They’re threatening you to get information they want. That’s blackmail! Why didn’t you tell me this?!”

“I was going to,” I insisted. “I just didn’t want to ruin tonight for us!”

He turned away. Tonight was definitely ruined.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke sadly. “I promise, I was going to tell you. Just not tonight. Tonight was meant to be about us being together.”

He didn’t reply. I could only see his want to forgive. He found it hard.

Caysath butted in. <Ten days… That is enough time to sort out this mess. Just promise me, Cassie, that under no circumstance will you reveal my connection. _No _circumstance.>

“You know I wouldn’t,” I assured him. “You say there’s time to sort out the mess… Did you have an idea?”

<Of course,> He huffed. <I get paid for my ideas. It’s my job.>

I was eager to listen. “What’s the plan?”

<It’s…> He sighed, much to my surprise. <It’s not something that I feel comfortable with. I’m very aware that our military has not been entirely honest about how the War started.>

“You mean how they planned to make it happen all along?”

He glared at me. <_They_?! Don’t generalise. I was not aware of such a conspiracy at the time.>

“Apologies,” I said. “Carry on.”

<We have one possible action to take,> He continued. <I suspect that, if this war was anticipated before the Kelbrids were taken hostage, plans would have been made. Formations. Phases of action. Our commanders are too cautious not to make such a move without thousands of plans and back-up plans. In light of the circumstances, the files would have been top secret, known only by those in the highest positions.>

I rubbed my chin, considering the circumstances. “Where are plans like that kept?”

<The high-security systems. The personal computers of those considered important enough to have such information. Of course, plans of that nature may have already been destroyed.>

“Is there anything else that could save us?” I asked.

He raised his hands in defeat. <I see no other option than to play them at their own game.>

“No,” Ronnie said, stepping into the conversation. “Cassie, you can’t go stealing high-security stuff!”

“If I don’t, either I get imprisoned, or everybody else does,” I sighed. “Maybe I don’t have a choice.”

<You don’t,> Caysath said. <If any of you are imprisoned, then they will have nothing to stop them from performing brain scan interrogations on you. It will reveal my involvement!>

“We’ll all go down.” I concluded. “Ronnie, I’ve got no choice.”

He grabbed at his own hair, silently cursing under his breath before turning away to gaze blankly at the dying fire below the mantelpiece.

<I cannot stay long,> Caysath said. <If they have imposed this deadline, then they will likely be keeping watch on you. Until this is resolved, I will cut off contact. When it is all done, you will tell that fool Menderash to call me. How and why they have been avoiding me for so long… Are you sure you don’t know where they are?!>

“I’m sure,” I reiterated. “And anyway, it’s probably good that they aren’t here. They won’t be found.”

<You will tell them to stay away from areas that may be investigated. Yellowstone included.>

“Got it,” I nodded, unfurling my arms from my chest. “Where should we go?”

<_We_… > He hummed. <I won’t be helping. I will not risk being caught. Not again.>

“Of course…”

<You will not be alone,> He added. <My student here will be at your disposal. I know that you don’t currently have a ship, but Cadet Amara is well-trained with the _Spirit_ Class stealth vessel. She can assist you.>

Amara smiled with beautiful green eyes. <I’m more than well-trained.>

Caysath continued, <Cadet Amara has a military pass that allows her into the War Commander’s Dome Ship. It’s currently not far from Earth, behind the Andalite blockade that is trying to hold back the Kelbrid approach. With luck, you can access the computer systems and retrieve any pertinent information.>

“Why can’t you do it?” I asked.

<I’m not going anywhere near that ship when this is going on!> He growled. <Haven’t I done enough to raise suspicion?>

“And yet you’re happy to let your student go along.”

<She is not tied to me,> He explained. <She is a student to many. She is here only because I dropped my guard one day. In return for her cooperation, I have been repaying her handsomely. Besides, her loyalty is questionable at the best of times.>

She glowered at him, but refused to defend herself. Or attack him back.

<She will take you, and she can instruct you on how to hack into the computer systems. However, it is not a task she can do alone. Having a sentry will be necessary to make sure nobody is caught. If somebody_ is_ caught, then we all go to jail. I want to retire back to the home world and live out the rest of my life with my partner and a huge, purple field. I don’t want to spend it in a dirty, rotten cell. I’m sure you’re much the same.>

I’d heard what needed to be heard about the plan. It was as good as any. A simple infiltration and hacking of a computer system. That’s all it was. I looked again to Amara, whose main eyes were upon me expectantly.

“When do we start?” I asked her.

She played casually with her fingers. She looked bored. <Whenever you’re ready. My ship is outside.>

“We won’t do it today,” I told her. “Come back in a couple days. Same time. I’ll be ready by then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I began to feel that privacy was sneaking away from me. Ronnie was now determined to sit in on each meeting, which was bad enough, but now Toby had grown suspicious and demanded the same with a little more ferocity. It was starting to feel like I was centre stage at my own theatre production: _Cassie, the Musical._

I trusted them both, of course, so I allowed them to join us two days later. The evening rolled in, and we were waiting by a new roaring fire, twiddling thumbs and exchanging empty small talk.

Ronnie had been acting understandably reserved since Caysath’s visit. He was much quieter than usual, and far more contemplative. I tried to pincer his emotional state into something readable, but all I knew was that he was worried. Worried about me. Would I receive a sentence? Would I be injured, or worse, during the mission we had planned? I did everything I could to console him. I reassured him as much as I could that it was a mission that carried little risk of physical injury. And besides, I was well-versed in the art of infiltration.

There was a reason I’d asked for a couple days before we began. After Caysath and Amara had left, I called Clarissa. Of course, Toby ended up answering the phone and was instantly curious, but she relented and passed me over. Unbeknownst to Toby, Clarissa had certain… connections.

By the next day, she’d acquired a small computer insert, much like a memory stick. It was no ordinary memory stick, though. According to her, the device was created by a race called the _Sdrij_, and they were experts in all things computer. On _Enrich, _the device had been tuned to be capable of hacking into any computer system, and downloading its entire history all onto one little chip. Perfect. But not the sort of technology Toby or Amara needed to know about…

Clarissa had travelled to _Enrich, _where the device had been adapted to work on an Andalite system, and she’d brought it back. She kept hold of it. With her chirpy, optimistic smile and stunning make-up, she hid her secrecy much better than I.

Amara knew Human culture enough to remember to knock when she arrived, and I was quick to open the door and invite her in. It was cold, but her thick purple fur provided her good protection, and she strutted inside with clear confidence.

<Hello, Cassie,> She spoke. <I am here with my ship. Are we ready to discuss the plan? Have you even thought of one?>

“Hi Amara. Yeah, we have a plan.”

Amara’s left stalk eye caught Toby, who was rested snugly into one of the sofas. Her three other eyes followed instantly, and her tail twitched. <What’s _that_ doing here?>

She hadn’t spoken that privately, and Toby was obviously going to take offense. She got up and stood tall, and then she walked over, not at all intimidated by the cocky female Andalite. She came right up to Amara, and loomed more than a clear foot above her. Amara kept her ground, tail shuddering with disturbing anticipation.

“I’m here to find out exactly what’s going on, _Hruthin_.” Toby seethed.

“Amara,” I interrupted, trying to barge my way in between the two deadly creatures. “This is Toby Hamee. Maybe you’ve heard of her.”

Amara chuckled humourlessly. <Oh, yes. The smart one. I mistook you for one of the stupid ones.>

Toby was offended, but she was never one to display too much emotion, let alone act on petty impulse. Instead, she spoke calmly. “You look awfully young to have the hateful attitude of an Andalite warrior. Have you ever even seen a Hork-Bajir before?”

Amara placed her hands to her hips and turned almost defensively. <No. Not until now.>

“Then I’d appreciate you being more welcoming.” Toby huffed.

Clarissa had made her way up in the midst of the confrontation, and wrapped an arm around Toby’s wrist. Gently, she pulled Toby back, a few steps away from the steaming Andalite.

I turned to Amara. “Let’s not get caught up in this. We need to work together to get this mission done. Fighting with each other won’t help.”

Amara’s eyes relaxed somewhat. One stalk kept watch on Toby, but I considered the bad introduction over. I knew that the relationship between Andalites and Hork-Bajir was tentative, but Amara had definitely picked up some bad misconceptions from somewhere.

Toby attempted to diffuse the atmosphere, and approached again slowly. “My name is Toby. I am the Hork-Bajir governor. I hope that we can put aside our differences to help Cassie.”

Thankfully, Amara was grown-up enough to see the end goal, and Toby’s sincerity. <Amara,> she said, and nothing more. It was a start, I guess.

With that needless confrontation dealt with, I offered them all back to take a seat. Toby, Clarissa and I retook our places on the sofa in front of the fire, and Amara stood between them. It was time to discuss the plan.

“Amara,” I started. “You can get into the Dome Ship, right?”

<I go there frequently. They won’t pay me any notice.>

“And what’s the security like? Regarding us.”

<Only authorised personnel are allowed.>

“And do they have morph scanners in place?”

<Of course,> She answered. <The scanners can detect any foreign lifeforms entering. I hope that wasn’t the plan…>

I shook my head. “No. That wasn’t the plan. I was wondering… Somehow we could use you to get inside the ship.”

She folded her arms. <How?>

“Do Andalites have parasites?”

Amara blinked. She looked offended. <Excuse me? Parasites?!>

“You know,” Clarissa shrugged. “Ticks, worms, lice…. Any of the yucky stuff.”

<You can’t be serious!> She squeaked. <That’s disgusting!>

“I know, I know,” I sighed. “But would it work?”

<I’m not sure…> She grumbled.

“I have to admit,” Clarissa said. “I don’t particularly want to be a worm up her ass, you know.”

Amara stamped a hoof. <No. Not happening.>

That little snippet of conversation had caught the ears of Toby and Ronnie. They looked utterly baffled. Toby lifted her snake-like head forward, and gazed at Clarissa. She was suspicious enough already, but now it had past the peak of her curiosity “Wait, _you_ don’t want to be a worm up her ass? _You_?”

It was time to reveal yet another secret. I might as well have been handing them out like candy on Halloween night. “We haven’t been entirely truthful, Toby. You see, Clarissa isn’t just a trained supervisor. She was with us when we attempted to rescue Ax. She was a student of Jake’s.”

Toby blinked, and looked back to Clarissa again. Suddenly, she didn’t look so surprised. “I thought something was off… Why did you lie to me? Why was that something you needed to hide?”

“She’s in hiding,” I explained. “She needed a new role. A disguise.”

“And you think I would have told people?” Toby growled. “Do you not trust me?”

“You know I do, Toby,” I said. “I just… I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

Toby looked down, betrayed. Once again, I cursed myself, chastised my willingness to withhold secrets from those closest to me. I knew she would forgive me. Of course she would. That only made it worse, like I’d taken advantage of her natural Hork-Bajir kindliness. No matter what I did, I could always rest assured that she would give me a pass.

Ronnie still looked at Clarissa, though. He was more confused than betrayed. I’d have to make another explanation to him. One of many on the list.

I had to move the planning along. We had temporarily stalled, and I had to bypass my terrible guilt to remain emotionless. I spoke to Amara. “Okay, we had another idea. Is the Dome Ship still collecting supplies from Earth?”

That idea seemed more acceptable to her, and she paused to consider. <They are close enough to Earth that the supply vessels should be using the resources.>

“How often do they come down, and what for?” I asked.

Again, she thought. <Let’s see… We take water, grass, fuel… Sometimes we take various Human foods for treats. Maybe they’ll pick up new machinery or materials in the case that they need repairs.>

“And is all that stuff scanned, as well?”

<Yes, of course. It is all filtered for unwanted lifeforms.>

It was a difficult situation that we found ourselves in, but there was an idea floating around in my head that wouldn’t go away. Maybe… would it work? It would have been something new. Something I’d never attempted before, but surely it would work. Why wouldn’t it?

“The grass…” I muttered. “How does that get taken up and filtered?”

<It gets loaded onto a transporter and deposited in the Ship. It gets scanned before being loaded onto the transporter, and again on the Dome Ship. The Earth grass doesn’t taste good though. It’s normally used for medical reasons, so we don’t take too much.>

“Does it get chopped up, or anything like that?”

<No. The scan is normally all they do. You can’t sneak in on the grass, because the scanners will pick you up. The grass goes into a machine that kills off anything that doesn’t belong there.>

“So that’s out of the question.” Clarissa concluded.

I had something else in mind, though. I smiled, mostly because I thought I was going crazy. It felt like a crazy idea. “No, it’s not. Can we go as grass?”

Everybody stared at me like a giant wart had swollen up at the tip of my nose. Amara was the only one to speak up. <Grass? You want to go in as _grass_?>

“Why not?” I asked. “It has DNA, it won’t get picked up by the scanners. Once we’re in the ship, you can come collect us, and we’ll be past security.”

Amara was sceptical, and she watched me curiously. She tapped a hoof, and it may have been a sign that she was thinking it through. <I suppose. Morphing grass though? It’s… It’s weird.>

“We’ve done weirder things, I’m sure.” I commented. “So can we do that? If we get stored away in cargo on the Dome Ship, could you come in and collect us? Sneak us further into the ship?”

<I would need to be able to identify you. I can’t sneak every grass plant inside…>

“We’ll demorph after the scans have been complete, and then remorph. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

<Fine. I can work with that.>

“Then you can take us to the offices, find a computer that isn’t being used, and we can hack into the system.”

<Ah, yes. The next big challenge,> Amara hummed. <It may take a while. Those computers will be incredibly difficult to hack into. Unless we find one that is unlocked.>

I glanced to Clarissa, who I expected to say something. She did, with a gleaming smile that was so typical of her. “Leave the hacking to me, babe.”

<You?!> Amara coughed. <What experience do you have with Andalite computers?>

Clarissa cocked her head mischievously. “Enough.”

“It seems incredibly hopeful,” Toby interjected thoughtfully. “Any computer restricted for Andalite commanders must be incredibly difficult to break into.”

“Only if you have the wrong tools.” Clarissa said. Then she reached into her pocket, and brought out the small adapted device. She twisted it in her fingers to show it off.

<What’s that?> Amara demanded.

“Top secret,” Clarissa answered. “Government stuff.”

Amara turned a stalk eye to me. <This Human baffles me. She can’t be serious.>

“She’s serious,” I said. “Serious enough that I believe her.” I wasn’t going to explain why. It was risky showing off such advanced technology, and Clarissa and I hoped that none of the others would investigate too closely.

It was riskier still, because we didn’t know Amara. The thought that this was all an elaborate trick had crossed my mind. It was only knowing Caysath’s previous actions that kept my paranoia restrained. He seemed to be on our side.

Either way, she was young, naïve and feisty. Well-trained or not, we would have to keep eyes on her at all times. She could have been dangerous.

“So we go in as grass,” Clarissa summarised. “Plain, old, boring grass.”

“I miss plain, old and boring things.” I sighed.

It was Ronnie’s turn to be concerned. He’d looked lost throughout the conversation, but not because he didn’t understand what we were saying. “Something bad could happen. Grass is so fragile. What if you get torn up in transport? I mean… Cass, you remember what happened to Rachel that time she was a starfish?”

“Yeah,” I shuddered. “I remember that. We’ll have to be picky with the grass we morph. Nothing flimsy.”

He shook his head. “I still don’t like this idea. Please, God, Cass, just don’t get yourself hurt. I… I don’t know what I’d do!”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

I couldn’t promise anything. I said it only to make him feel better at that moment. I could only picture him once we’d left; alone, frightened, and fearing the worst possible outcome. I had to look away from him.

Toby asked, “Where do the transporters get the grass from?”

“Luxembourg,” Clarissa answered. “That’s where the major Dome Ships get their stuff. Grass is healthier there, apparently.”

<What is Luxembourg?> Amara questioned.

I answered her, picturing the place in my head. I had been there twice. “It’s a small country in Europe. A long way from here, but we should have no problem getting there.”

<Very well,> said Amara. <My ship is ready, and so am I.>

We had a drink together before we got ready to leave. Amara quickly split off to make final preparations on the stealth vessel she’d parked between my house and the adjacent barn. I did whatever I could to put Ronnie at ease, but it was no easy task. Clarissa helped with her usual optimism. She put on that act particularly well. Was it an act? I wouldn’t ever know…

I was putting away the used mugs, soaking them under the hot tap and wiping over the coffee marks with a sponge. It was the last normal activity I’d be doing for a little while, so I treasured it as much as I could. I even put the radio on, and it distracted my mind. For a few moments, Ronnie wasn’t there. I didn’t see the grief on his face.

I was so cruel to him. He only ever loved me and I returned it with cruelty. What if something _did _happen to me? What then? He’d be here all alone until he would inevitably have to sell the place. He’d continue his work, yeah, but would he enjoy it anymore? Would he be trapped in a horrible downward spiral?

All because of me?

“Cassie?”

I jumped, stunned back into reality by Toby’s guttural voice. When I twisted my neck to see her, she’d just closed the door behind her, and she stood there like a waiting statue. She wanted to speak privately. I stretched to the radio and shut it off. Using a towel, I started to dry off my hands. I kept playing with it even after all the moisture had been soaked up.

“You okay, Toby?” I asked quietly.

“I’m concerned.” She replied.

I nodded. “Yeah… I’m so sorry. I should be telling you these things. I feel like crap, because I didn’t. I didn’t tell Ronnie, either.”

“You felt you had a good reason for withholding those things. I’m not offended. I’m just shocked to hear about all of this. I knew that the Animorphs had gone to find Aximili. That much was obvious. I just knew that you’d stayed behind, and from that I assumed you wouldn’t be involved at all.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I got involved.”

“I always knew something was wrong. I could feel it. And Clarissa never felt right.”

“She was called Jeanne Gerard,” I explained. “Whether that’s her _real_ name, I can’t be sure. She’s an intelligence agent, and that’s why she has certain… skills.”

“I thought it strange,” She chuckled. “When she started speaking Russian during one of our meetings. I never would have predicted that.”

“She’ll be helpful in Luxembourg,” I said. “She speaks French, too.”

Toby smiled, but looked down. She’d been building up to something. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Cassie.”

_Not the whole truth, _I thought to myself…

She continued, “While we’re being truthful, there is something that I, too, have hidden.”

I finally stopped fiddling with the towel. It froze in my hands. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Before Aximili left for _Intrepid_, he came to the park. We’d never been the closest allies, as you know. But he wanted to make up for whatever little disagreements got between us. Maybe it was an act of contrition on a larger scale, but… I felt it was more personal than that. He offered me the use of the _Escafil _device.”

“He did? But…”

“He broke the law,” She acknowledged. “But he thought it was an appropriate gift. A chance to extend my life when I begin to age past my usefulness. I believe he was looking ahead to the future of our people.”

It shocked me a little. Ax had never been particularly close to the Hork-Bajir, let alone Toby. The mutual wariness shared between the races was notorious, and Ax was no exception. For him to give Toby such important Andalite technology meant that he clearly had seen past all that. War changes people. Sometimes for worse, but also for the better.

“Have you done it?” I asked Toby.

“Yes. Several times. But nobody else knows. I don’t quite know how to explain to my brothers and sisters that someday, I may not be me anymore…”

“That’s a long time away.” I said.

“Yes, it is.”

“So why are you telling me now?” I asked.

“Because I would not consider myself a good friend if I didn’t offer my help,” She said, regaining a firm posture, with head raised. “After all the times during the War, when you-”

“Oh, no, Toby,” I interrupted. “No, no. You don’t owe me anything. Honestly! You’re not in my debt. None of us is.”

“Without you, I may not even be alive today. Nor any other Hork-Bajir.”

It brought old thoughts back to my mind. What if we’d never rescued Jara and Ket? Toby could have been born into slavery as just another Controller. Who knows, one of us could have killed her in some battle. Would we have ever saved the Hork-Bajir? Would we have even given them a second thought? We’d only ever seen them as monsters and killing machines. And the Andalites never showed any willingness to save them.

Toby had the impression that, had we not saved her Mother and Father, her race would be doomed to extinction, cast aside as an insignificant loss.

“Without you, here and now, what would your people do?” I asked her in return. “You could end up in jail. Or dead. What happens to the Hork-Bajir without one of their own as a leader? I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to tell Telf, or your children. You’re too important to risk, Toby.”

She slumped slightly, but she knew I was right. We had no desperate need for her on this mission, and she’d only be another risk.

“I hope you return soon,” She said. “Your presence here is just as important as mine. Probably more so.”

I stepped towards her. In that moment, I reminded myself of how much she meant to me. I’d go so far as to call her my closest friend. So, instinctively, in a hopeful goodbye, I approached for an embrace. I wrapped my arms around her bladeless torso, just as a Hork-Bajir child would, and she gently hugged me back.

I held her like a child, but I felt like the mother.

“You have to get Sten and Ely away from the house,” I mentioned. “The Andalites will search the area.”

“I will.”

“And keep Ronnie company,” I added. “Do it better than I can. Don’t ever let him be alone.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Amara’s ship was small but cosy. It felt a little like Groof’s, only without the superior technology and the mess. Unlike him, she couldn’t stand clutter, so everything was neatly put away and stored, allowing us much room to sit back and try to relax as we made the journey to Europe.

It was a ship dedicated to stealth. The body reflected that, and there was not a single flat surface. It looked like a cluster of symmetrical bubbles. Another of its abilities, other than the radar-spreading shape, was its cloaking technology. Like a gecko, it was able to conform its coloration to match its background. From afar, it was nearly impossible to spot.

She was more than happy to talk about it. She owned it. It was hers. It was an extension of her own abilities.

Clarissa and I were becoming very aware that this Andalite thought the Universe of herself. She was young and naïve, with plenty of time to come crashing back down to Earth. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and her ego was larger than Godzilla.

That ego had to come from somewhere, though. Her knowledge of the ship was indeed flawless. When I decided to explore the small place, I saw certificates and medals. They were all written in the Andalite language, but by appearance alone it was obvious that she was having a burgeoning career. It made me wonder why she’d be helping a group of criminals…

The uneventful travel didn’t take long, and before we’d had time to even make lunch plans, we’d landed south of Wiltz beside a long line of trees and a nearby small village. When we exited the hatch, we saw a picturesque landscape of flowing grassland and trees. The village was visible within a nearby valley, descending down out of sight and up and over the horizon. There was a light whip of grey cloud up above, but it didn’t deter from the area’s natural beauty.

The air was clean, too. You could smell it. There was a reason that Andalites harvested grass from this part of the world, and it was plain to see.

We were a long way from home, but despite this I would still have to avoid standing out. After all, my face had become recognisable worldwide. I had brought along some large sunglasses and a woolly had, and it should have been enough to keep me hidden. Clarissa had no need to hide, and Amara had a Human morph that nobody at all would recognise. Feeling secure, we began the walk to the village over the hills.

The village was typically European. The buildings were old and clumped together, some forming unbroken walls that nestled the narrow curving roadways, but their architecture was culturally appealing and comfortable. Cyclists zipped past small European vehicles that navigated the spaghetti-like roads and lay parked along the sidewalks, half on them and half sticking out into the road itself.

Luxembourg had three official languages: French, German and Luxembourgish. We heard all of them as we entered the village. My own ability was incredibly limited, but Clarissa was always at hand to translate. It became especially helpful when we wanted to find some food before we arrived at the Andalite depot on the far side of the village.

We entered what appeared to be the village square. It was a large rectangular opening surrounded by cream-coloured-spire-roofed buildings, where the ground in the centre was cobbled and hosted a large groomed tree on a podium in the center. Benches and wooden shelters were lined around it, and four market stalls were selling things such as knitted shirts and scented candles. The people of the village strolled around in thick hats and gloves, enjoying just another day in the quiet central-European beauty. When we came to the conclusion that we needed sustenance, Clarissa called over a young couple. They spoke Luxembourgish, but that was no problem to her. They left, assuming we were just a few visitors from a nearby town on a day trip, and having pointed us towards a small café at the other side of the village square.

The café smelled of sweet baked goods and coffee. The room itself was tiny, with little more than an oak wood counter and five circular tables filling the space. The walls held small picture frames and one huge canvas of a steaming hot coffee on a snow-covered wall. A pair of old ladies were hunched over the table closest to the window, and we decidedly took our place as far from them as we could. Clarissa ordered us each a cappuccino and a baguette. It was delightfully French.

We crammed the plates and cups onto the tiny table, fumbling items such as sugar and pepper dispensers in what little space was available, and then settled down enough to have some meaningful, if subdued conversation.

“You’ve been here before.” Amara said to me. Her baguette was clutched protectively in her hand, just itching to be eaten. She had the sort of control of her food that indicated to me that she was an experienced Human-morpher. Her Human body had deep red, almost crimson hair and sharp blue eyes, and she was wearing a dark brown overcoat to keep her warm in the Central European freeze.

“Toby and I have been here a couple of times,” I replied. “A lot of important stuff happens here.”

“Here?” She scoffed. “It doesn’t look very important. Everything’s very small.” She then took a chunky bite from her baguette.

“This is Wiltz,” Clarissa said. “Not even Wiltz, even. It’s a little village. I think it’s pretty!”

“I love it here,” I said, recalling the occasions we had visited. “So does Toby. We came to this area after a big conference in Luxembourg City. She’d been locked away in a hotel for three days, and then she came out here. She went crazy for the trees.”

“Such simple desires.” Amara hummed.

Clarissa shot her a glare. I felt like I did the same. “You didn’t make a good first impression.” I said to her.

Amara’s baguette dropped just slightly, and she swallowed down whatever remained in her mouth. She took a defensive posture. “Well, if you don’t like how I conduct myself, maybe I should take my ship and leave, hm? Do you even remember what happened between them and us?”

“Yeah, we remember.” I answered.

She looked to us both, and for a while the posture remained. Then it settled, and her body regained its focus on the baguette. “My apologies.”

It was all that she said, and she went back to eating and to more polite conversation. It was enough for me, and I’m sure for Clarissa as well. It seemed sincere.

Clarissa smiled and sipped at her cappuccino. “So, Amara… Can I call you Amy?”

“Only when I’m in Human form.” She replied.

“Tell us about yourself, new girl.”

She was very happy to give us the run-down, and the smile that came from her was beaming. “Me? Oh, well I was raised in the _Yume_ region of the Andal supercontinent. My Father was a Prince and my Mother a famous doctor. I learned to play the _Timra_ whistle when I was a year old and had many lessons in athletics. Father wanted to train me for the official games but I didn’t think it was to my taste. So I asked my parents for a _Holt_ transporter of my own and I drove it all around the grasslands. I signed up to the pilot training school as the youngest member and one of only two females. I passed all my flight exams recently, and now I’m officially a trained pilot.”

Clarissa cleared her throat loudly. “Hey Amy, you want some polish?”

“Polish?” She blanked.

“For that silver spoon of yours.”

I shook my head lightly at Clarissa, but couldn’t hide my amused smile.

“I don’t have a spoon,” Amara replied obliviously. “These baguettes don’t require cutlery.”

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Clarissa hummed. “I forgot. Silly little me!”

“That sounds interesting,” I said to Amara. “I’d love to see the _Yume_ region.”

“It’s wonderful. The grass so clean and nutritious, and where I live has a beautiful waterfall just up from the river. I don’t care much for the wildlife, though. It can get very noisy. Almost as noisy as Earth.”

“Can I ask you something?” I said warily. “And it’s going to be a serious question.”

“Go ahead.”

I took my cappuccino and held it close to my mouth, like it offered me some personal comfort. “Why are you here? You sound like you’re so successful with all the pilot stuff. I don’t really get why you’re here with us, because… you know what we’ve done. What we’re trying to do.”

Clarissa had put aside some personal grooming that she was attending to, and sat perfectly still to listen, just as curious as I was.

“Caysath,” She answered. “I heard him talking to somebody in private. Menderash-Postill-Fastill. I thought he was dead.”

“So much for him keeping things private…” Clarissa muttered to me. I allowed Amara to continue.

“He went berserk and locked me in his quarters,” She said. “I’d only gone in to hand him one of my papers, and I heard Menderash saying something about infiltrating a prison to find the Yeerk Visser Esplin 9466. Caysath told me to say nothing, to keep quiet. He said he would pay me.”

I hung my head in ambivalence. One the one hand, it annoyed me that Caysath would be so clumsy and also so eager to pay his students to remain silent. On the other, I was thankful that he was so willing to maintain our secrets, even if they were likely to affect him just as seriously as us.

“So you’re here because, what, he promised you a promotion or something?” Clarissa pressed.

“That’s a possibility,” She considered. “He’s already given me stellar reports.”

I hated to question it, but I had to. I couldn’t let it just go past me without some retaliation. “And do you think that’s right? Is it a good thing?”

She grinned. “We all make our fortunes somehow. My way is just a little different.”

“You’re going to cheat your way through the ranks…”

She shrugged. “Only as high as Caysath can grant. He can’t get me the position of War Commander, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t think it’s right at all,” I said, aghast. “You’re not doing this on principle. You’re doing this for only your own benefit.”

She glared, all politeness dropping from her expression. “If I wanted to do things on principle, I would have reported Caysath long ago, and you’d be in jail, my friend. Fortunately for you, my gain benefits us both. Let’s keep it that way.”

She had a point, but I was angered nonetheless. Clarissa cleared her throat again, and went back to grooming her hair with a travel comb as if the conversation had never happened.

I knew that she would remember it though, just as I would. Amara could be a problem.

“This food is lovely!” She chirped to break the silence, mouth full of half-chewed ham baguette. “So tasty! The breading is somewhat tough, but I definitely approve.”

“Glad you do.” Clarissa muttered emptily, now checking herself over with a handheld mirror.

“When we get back home,” I said. “We’ll get you some pizza from my favourite place. Speaking of which, we should really think about making a move. The transporter should be at the depot by now.”

“Can’t we stay a little while longer?” Amara asked. “There’s a slice of chocolate cake over there that’s calling for my attention!”

“I think you need a diet,” Clarissa said, before dropping her mirror back into her coat pocket. She finished her cappuccino and got up, scraping her seat on the floor behind her. “Shall we?”

It had started to snow since we’d taken our break in the café. It fell in large flakes, but they were soft on the skin. The wintery scenery was perfect as we moved away from the village square and towards the north where the depot was situated. Leaving behind the swirling frost-bitten village streets, we emerged onto a single-lane road that escaped the claustrophobia of clustered housing for only the briefest time before it opened on our right into a parking lot. Square, squat buildings formed walls around the four or five cars present, one of which was particularly large and accompanied by vast silos. Behind that building, no doubt, would be the transporter. There was a quiet hum from that direction.

“So that’s the depot,” Clarissa spoke as we stopped to observe in the parking lot. “It’s, like, totally not what I was expecting.”

I had no idea what she was expecting. It was like a large barn made of reinforced metal. Did she expect some fancy architecture to store grass?

“I see workers.” Amara noted, leaning sideward to see past a large truck.

“Human or Andalite?” Clarissa asked.

“Does it matter?”

Clarissa looked stunned by Amara’s instant response. “I guess not…”

I sighed, perturbed by the constant adversarial atmosphere that had developed. “Is it right that security is left to scanners?”

Amara answered, “The scanners pick up any foreign organisms, and any potential poisons. There is very little need for military security.”

I was satisfied, and relieved with how lax the security appeared to be. “Let’s go find some grass.”

We wandered around the reinforced metal walls of the storage unit to the front, squeezing past the large truck that was parked between it and one of the silos. The hum of a ship grew louder, and when we got near the front of the building, it became visible. It was small and not as sleek as Andalite ships would usually be. If an Andalite Blade Ship was a Corvette, this ship was a dump truck. Three Andalites were busying themselves around it, one of them holding what looked like a scanner. We stepped back behind the wall, casually so as not to draw attention.

“Amara,” I said. “We’ll morph fly and follow you. Take us to the grass storage inside.”

“Very well.”

Clarissa and I stepped back into the gap beside the truck, and Amara leaned up against the wall, inconspicuous enough but also good security for us. We morphed quickly, and once we were both small enough we snuck beneath the truck for extra safety.

<You think we can trust Little Miss Sass?> Clarissa asked as her thought-speak became available.

<I think Caysath has paid her enough. Yeah.>

<Let’s hope.>

Morphing fly was just as disgusting as it ever had been. Almost as bad as the first time. It was soon over, though, and I saw the world through a myriad of tiny TV sets. I smelled the distinctive smell of faeces nearby. I pushed that all aside and focused, which was relatively simple when combatting the limited fly mind.

<We’re done,> I told Amara as I zipped up into the air like I was riding the world’s craziest roller coaster. <Just going to land on your clothing. Don’t swipe at us.>

<I’ll try not to…> She said unsurely. <Such a horrible little creature.>

<Don’t put yourself down like that.> Clarissa replied.

<Very witty. I thought they said Human humour was meant to be funny.>

I landed on her brown coat. I felt it move around beneath me, and then even more so as she started moving. I couldn’t really make out where she was for the most part, but after a short wait the world around me went a shade darker. I saw another fly beside me, cleaning its spindly legs and its lengthy proboscis.

<Just searching for a store room…> Amara informed. <Somewhere you can’t be seen… Ah, this looks like a good place!>

A small breeze made me clutch harder, but it quickly passed. The lighting went down a shade further, to almost blackness.

<I’ve found a suitable place. You can demorph now.>

Two flies simultaneously jumped from her coat and away. I zigzagged through the air and downwards, finding a surface to settle on. It was like landing in an alien forest. The grass was everywhere. Once I felt secure, I started to demorph. As my weight began to increase, I felt myself sinking into the pile, and for a moment I was submerged in darkness. Then I emerged from itas a hideously overgrown fly with Human eyes that just barely worked as intended. Two of my legs were sucked into my torso, and fingers and toes sprouted from the stiff fly claws. Wings vanished, and skin replaced exoskeleton.

We lay down on a bed of grass. It was surprisingly comfortable. However, we could see very little. Amara was distinguishable only by her silhouette.

“So this is the grass picked for transport,” I muttered, digging a hand into the slightly damp pile. “We need to find a good bit.”

I turned in place to allow both hands to dig. Amara and Clarissa joined, and together we perused the pile for a grass plant worthy.

“This one seems good,” Clarissa said. “Pretty thick, solid. Pretty long, too.”

“You said the same about Shawn Ashmore.” I chuckled.

She laughed. “No, seriously. Here.”

She handed over a grass plant. She was right in how she described it. It wasn’t too flimsy, and some of the rooting was still intact. “I think we have our winner.”

“Can’t wait to be a piece of Luxembourgish grass!” Clarissa chirped with fake enthusiasm.

I concentrated, though it seemed a little strange this time around. I held the grass lightly in my palm, and indeed I felt that subtle indication that the acquisition was happening. It was just a grass plant… and yet I was about to become it. I felt the tingle, and it was done. I handed it back to Clarissa, and she did the same.

I exhaled nervously. “Phew! Well, here it goes, I suppose.”

I got up and walked beside Amara, where the floor was relatively free of other grass. I didn’t close my eyes as I started the transformation. I was so intrigued, and so curious how this morph would look.

It was strange. Really strange. With no knowledge of how it would work, I decided not to guide the morph and let it take its own path. I sat cross-legged for fear of falling, and that turned out to be a good idea. My legs suddenly went entirely numb. No feeling whatsoever. I could even feel what was changing, because all I saw was clothing, but before long I collapsed backwards because I had no balance. I still had my head and my eyes, and the musculature that allowed me to turn my neck to see Clarissa. I was horrified to see that she was headless. From her shoulders, all I saw was the tiny spear of a leaf.

I held myself from screaming, but that resulting shudder caused me to momentarily drop my concentration. I forced it to continue, and then my arms went numb. And then my torso. I was just a head.

It was one of the most terrifying morphs I’d ever done.

Then my head went, too. Throughout the process I had no idea what was changing. Everything about the grass body was just… nothing. No feeling, no thoughts, no ability to move on its own accord. I expected that all along, but it still came as a horrible shock.

<Clarissa?!> I whined as soon as I could. <Clarissa, are you okay?!>

<Yeah, I’m good,> She replied shakily. <Starting to regret this, you know.>

<Me too.> I agreed.

Nevertheless, we didn’t stop. All that was left of me was my own thoughts. The feeling of absolute, complete helplessness flooded me.

<Are we done, Amara?> I asked, trying not to sound so desperate.

<I’m holding you now,> She said calmly. <You’ve both finished. I’m just going to place you in my bag gently. As gently as I can.>

<Thank you…> I gasped.

<How is it?> She asked.

<Honestly?> I laughed nervously. <This is worse than death.>


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

We had to rely on Amara entirely. She was our ears, our eyes, our nose. We had no senses at all, only a mind floating somewhere amongst the grass plant. How the science behind it functioned, I couldn’t be sure, but then the ability to morph had always confused me.

Putting our trust into her made us both wary. We’d barely known her a day, and she really hadn’t made the best first impression. If she were to abandon us or hand us over as criminals, we wouldn’t even know. If she wanted, she could force us to become imprisoned within these terrifying bodies, forever lost in darkness. All of our confidence – what there was of it – lay in the knowledge that Caysath was behind this. Even then, he hadn’t shown himself to be entirely trustworthy.

And yet, there we were, putting ourselves into that danger. Despite responsibilities. Despite friends and family. Despite Ronnie. I felt sick.

With what information she reported to us, Amara had assured us that she had successfully moved us into the transporter. Using her ID, she entered, took a look around, spoke to various workers to make it seem like she had purpose to be there, and taken us to the storage hold where the grass was being placed. She said that the transporter would take roughly two-and-a-half hours to reach the Dome Ship and dock. She would take her own vessel and get there before us, once more finding ways to make herself look inconspicuous. We would wait alone in the cold, breezy and humid storage hold.

When she told us that we were safe to demorph, we waited a little while longer before doing so. My senses all began to return sporadically, the smell of cut grass arriving first to greet me. I’d never treasured the sense of smell so adoringly before that moment. My eyesight returned next, but it was only to the faintest slits visible through a mosaic of grass. My nerves returned, starting from my head and working down to my toes, as if my whole body had already returned but had no nervous system at all. I was partially buried, and laying almost upside down, my brain taking a pause to figure out where and what I was. I began to right myself, using the cushion of a pile of grass to adjust. My head finally emerged, and the dark storage room greeted me with cold, cruel arms. I spat blades of grass from my mouth and rubbed as much as I could from my hair.

“C-Clarissa,” I coughed, regaining the feeling of my lungs. “You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” She replied from my right. “Wow, that was, like, _the worst_.”

“Tell me about it. Looks like Amara picked a good spot, though. I can hardly see anything in here…” My eyes had only barely adjusted enough that I could start to make out the silhouette of her upper body poking through the sloped mountain of grass.

I heard the rustling of the grass as Clarissa took a handful and played with it nonchalantly. “Can we agree to never morph grass again after today?”

“Yeah, sure. That was awful,” I said. “So we have a couple hours to waste in here.”

“We could play _I Spy_.”

“Not much else to do,” I sighed. “I just really wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“Kinda have to. I know it’s shit and all, but it’s this or somebody goes to jail. Maybe you.”

I nodded, but she probably couldn’t see. I laid back deeper into the damp grass. “It would be me.”

“You wouldn’t tell them?” Clarissa asked. She didn’t sound surprised, even though she’d asked.

“Of course not. What do I even do these days? I cut banners at opening days. I sit in on big meetings as just another voice, surrounded by money-grubbing businessmen. I’m a picture, not a person. I just represent something.”

“You’re underselling yourself, you know,” Clarissa said. “You trying to justify it?”

“Look at what _they’re _doing. They’re out there to save Ax. They’re fighting Kelbrids and Yeerks and god-only-knows what else. You probably know a lot more than I do. What they’re doing is far more important than what I’m doing.”

“I’ve been watching you for years, Cass. I’ve seen the stuff you do.”

I groaned inwardly at the thought. “Yeah… Should that make me feel better?”

“You know, TV and stuff like that. I’ve read your books and kept up with your website. You do so much stuff, you know? There are presidents that did less good stuff than you. The reason you have an image and a reputation is because you earnt it.”

I tried so hard to accept her words, and at the very least I could appreciate the sentiment. “Thanks,” I said sincerely.

“And what you’re doing helps them. You know that, right?”

It was tempting to say a final couple words that would either confirm or deny her assertion, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. It hung in the air, and Clarissa felt no need to further drive it at me.

“I say we get this over with,” She said. “And we get home to some sushi. I’ve, like, _really _gotten into that Japanese stuff.”

“No grass. Not even seaweed.” I insisted.

“Deal.”

We talked of vacations and the holidays. Christmas was a high talking point. In the cold, damp room filled with only grass, there wasn’t much else to do, and we strived to keep our minds occupied before we would inevitably have to morph the grass again. I talked about Ronnie, and she talked about some guy she’d been seeing called Zak. Once more, my mind considered the true meaning behind it. Clarissa and I had gotten so close, and yet I still felt so distant from her. I knew she was trying, and that her attempts at friendship were genuine, but her goals and her mission made it so difficult to avoid seeking subversive purposes behind everything she did. No doubt Toby would feel the same way.

Without any way of telling how long it had been, we used the feel of the ship to judge when we had to change back. With four hours of morph time, it should have been plenty, but we were very aware that once we morphed, there was no way to tell when we could morph back. Not until we heard from Amara, who would have to arrive back on the vessel. There could have been some costly delays. The ship had a constant hum that had been ever present since we’d previously demorphed, and we assumed it to be the sound of the vessel actively travelling. So when that hum suddenly and abruptly died down to little more than a whisper, shortly after a light bump, we thought it best to re-enter the hell that was the grass morph. It was just as traumatic as before.

<What’s the drill if she doesn’t get here?> Clarissa asked.

<If we aren’t fed into some shredder, I guess we just demorph and hope we’re alone.>

Paranoia set in, as we expected, when it became apparent that the wait for Amara would be long and empty. I thought of trying to relax, but feared becoming eternally lost in the void of the grass. The threats of a failed mission aided in keeping me alert, but with nothing else to occupy my mind, it was a brutal stretch of time.

Her voice came in faint and distant, but I was oh-so pleased to hear it. <Just getting checked for permission to enter.>

<Amara?!> I blurted. <That you?!>

<Yes, it’s me. Is everything okay?>

<Yeah, we’re grass again. It’s been about an hour, I think…>

<It’s been approximately forty-eight Earth minutes since the ship landed.>

<Oh, good!> Clarissa chirped. <Plenty of time!>

Amara continued to reassure us as she made her way inside, her voice growing clearer in our heads as she approached. Eventually, she told us that she was in the storage room, alone. We told her that we were the two identical grass plants that lay alone closest to the door, having thought to place ourselves away from all the rest. She picked us up and gently dropped us into her ID holder, where there would be just enough room without the risk of being damaged. She would sneak us through the storage doors as grass to avoid us being detected as unwelcome lifeforms.

<We are proceeding through the detection doors of the storage area… Safely through. There are no more detectors from this point onwards.>

That was Step 1 complete, and it had gone according to plan. Step 2 would be to get into an office. Alone. Thankfully, Amara’s knowledge of the ship and its schedule was on point, and as she continued to speak to us, it came with a confident huff. This was as easy as breathing.

<I am making my way to the main offices. War Commander Torceran is present, so he will have his set up and active.>

<Will he be in his office?> I asked.

She took a moment to check. <He is in his office, but standeasy commences in three of your minutes. With luck, he will leave his office. If I know officers, he will go to the Dome.>

<How long does standeasy last?>

<Half an hour. Should that be enough time?>

<That’s loads of time!> Clarissa replied.

<Excellent,> Amara said. <I’ll wait to see if he leaves.>

<Will there be a way to lock the door?> I asked. <That last thing we want is to get caught mooching around the War Commander’s stuff.>

<No, but I’ll stand on guard. I doubt anybody will interrupt you, so long as you don’t remain too long. I’ll take you inside and drop the items you require in an obvious spot, and then head back outside. You should demorph as quickly as you can.>

<Busy out there?> Clarissa asked.

<It’s very normal for this work shift,> Amara said. <Some officers are away. Others are already at standeasy. I’ve seen some in other offices…> She sighed longingly. <The easy life. I have to _work _for a living!>

I left her to her complaints and spoke privately to Clarissa. <Think half-an-hour is going to be enough?>

<With an Andalite computer? That’s nothing. I can get it done in five minutes. Although, it depends on how old the system is. Everything in that terminal’s history gets taken.>

<What if it’s _real_ old?>

<Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.>

That was reassuring. So long as Amara kept up our security, we should have the job done without issue. Nevertheless, the thoughts of unforeseen circumstances kept popping into my head.

<He’s moving,> Amara alerted us. <He’s heading towards the Dome of the ship. In just a moment, I will drop you into his office.>

<Great timing!> Clarissa congratulated. <Let’s see what he’s got for us!>

<Stepping into the office now,> Amara informed. <It’s empty. I’m putting you beneath a table where you can’t be seen… There. Now… I’ve put the device you need on the table above you. You can start to demorph. I’ll step outside and keep watch.>

<Thanks, Amara.> I said sincerely. Now it was time to get out of the horrible morph for a second time.

When I finally began to regain my senses, I was lying flat on my front, merely a torso and a head, all starting to become fully-functional. I felt like an amputee, but through the corners of my eyes I could just make out limp, green arms. It was like they were made of jelly, and as I shuffled my torso left and right, they dragged along like damp rags. I closed my eyes tight, and hoped that it would be over as quickly as it had ever gone.

I felt the power of muscle return, and I gently clutched to the ground to lift myself away from it. When I was certain that the morph was over, I allowed my eyes to fall open. Clarissa was right beside me. Green.

I closed my eyes shut again. “Clarissa,” I whispered. “Tell me when it’s over.”

“… It’s over.”

I opened them again, and this time Clarissa was as normal as she could ever have been. She was even able to morph all of her make-up back. I hardly ever wore the stuff, so I had no need to learn such a skill.

“We good?” She asked, keeping her voice as quiet as she could.

“Yeah, we’re good. Let’s go.”

I crept from under the angle-less white table, my hands and feet brushing against a grassy floor. The office was a size worthy of such a highly-ranked officer, and the purple grass stretched wide to each wall, enough space for him to jog freely in a small circle. The opening to the office was at the opposite side of the room, and we couldn’t see out of it, sight blocked by a loose fabric of some sort. I could see his computer adjacent to the doorway. It was a podium that came up to chest height, accompanied by the backsides of two or three screens, silver in colour, used to project 3D holograms in the most amazing detail.

The scent of Andal spices hit me. Curious, but pleasant. It came neatly with the visage of comfort coating the spacious office. Delicate tinsels and webbing plant life lined the walls, shadow all but eliminated by the artificial sun that glowed inoffensively through the ceiling. Between the waves of flora were circular frames, with golds and silvers and crimsons spilling out as 3D bulges. Details of Andal symbols and the fabrics that lined them were captured so brilliantly, with the perfect contrasts on each and every occasion.

An office worthy of Ol’ Torch, indeed. It felt like a field of natural beauty, all contained deceptively within one room.

Clarissa had already retrieved the computer implant from atop the white table that was one of the few obstacles around the room. She seemed entirely focused on the task at hand, not idling to gaze around at the superb room. Being on _Enrich_ had maybe dulled her senses to the wondrous and the outstanding.

I continued to whisper, more than aware that officers could be wandering past the room in close-proximity. “Can you get straight in?”

She swerved around the podium to stand ahead of its work surface. A dash of white blurred her facial features. “It’s on. Password protected. That doesn’t matter.”

She took the tiny object in precise fingers and starting to manipulate the podium with knowing hands. A barely-visible dial was turned beneath the screens, and a compartment was unveiled, displaying the wiry guts. She reached in, and through the tiny gap I couldn’t make out what exactly she was doing as I moved to her side. All I noticed was that the screens suddenly went a dark shade of purple. An Andal symbol that I read as _‘Input cannot be determined’ _appeared.

“Is that supposed to happen?”

She came back away from the compartment, the implant having been left inside. She looked at the screen. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Will he notice something wrong when he gets back?”

She smiled wide. “Not a thing.”

At that moment, I almost felt superfluous to the mission. It made me feel bad, in a way, that my own task didn’t even require me to really participate. Rather than wallow in the usual self-loathing, I stepped away from the podium and refocused on Torceran’s office. Specifically, I looked to the walls that gleamed and sparkled like an inverted night sky. I was drawn to a golden plaque, the closest to the computer podium and in plain sight. It was written in Andal, as would be expected, and that meant that it looked like a collection of detailed images, kind of like Chinese, but more intricate and interwoven. They didn’t write in columns, or in rows. The symbols danced around, and would seem entirely random to somebody that couldn’t understand the language. The pattern, however, was purposeful. It was beautiful, artwork in itself.

It was an oath, inscribed into gold. I read it in my head: _For ours, you fight. For ours, you sacrifice. For ours, no matter the obstacle. For ours, no matter the choice. For ours, you._

It had a couple signatures. One of some _Ammarumor_, and the other was his own. His signature indicated his rank as Prince. It must have been very old.

Along that wall were placed other oaths and certificates, framed as fancifully as he would apparently like. There were certificates for each of his promotions up to War Commander, all arranged chronologically. Cadet, Aristh, Prince, War-Prince... And in-between all of them were hoisted medals, glimmering like diamonds, and they became more numerous as I moved down the line. When I arrived at his certificate for promotion to War Commander, the medals stopped abruptly. After it, something new came. It was a three-dimensional image, which was not out of the ordinary, but the contents did not follow naturally from the line of medals and oaths.

It was a picture of him. Behind him, his family. A wife, and three children that looked spookily like him, over the backdrop of a long-stretching Andal meadow. Tiny little War-Commanders. Stubborn and proud, like him, but with the innocence of children and their parents’ hands over their shoulders. The War-Commander himself was smiling.

No… It _did _follow logically from the oaths and medals.

_For ours, you._

“How’s it going?” I whispered back to Clarissa. She was gazing blandly at the purple computer screens.

“Nearly there.”

<Quieten down!> Amara blurted loudly. <I can hear you whispering in there. If I can hear you, so can others.>

I rolled my eyes and steadily wandered back to Clarissa. I could lower my volume even further, if I needed to. Having studied the walls, I could fill out the rest of the short time around his work area. It didn’t feel right to go snooping through his work, but… that was the whole point of us being there. I found what would be the equivalent of a set of cupboards tucked away in the corner behind a leafless Andal plant that was growing straight from the grassy floor. I swung open the oval door to a messy ensemble of loose items. Being far out of arm’s reach from his podium, whatever was inside was probably unimportant. It was gloomy, untouched by the ever-present artificial sun, and from it radiated a damp, worn smell. I saw old computer parts and spares. Some spare decorations and some empty polyester containers. A couple had loose items inside, and one of them caught my attention. I pulled it to the edge of the cupboard where it slammed a little too hard into the door frame. I gritted my teeth at the noise.

<Are you trying to get caught?> Amara grumbled from outside. <You’re lucky nobody was around the hear that.>

I finally breathed again, and looked back into the container. Inside were three pieces of metal, ranging from dark grey to black, and they looked a little worn, adorned with scratches and scrapes. From the twisted, jagged edges here and there, it was clear that they’d been removed from something bigger. Their presence was curious. I tipped one forward with a careful finger when I saw a hint of writing. With it revealed, though slightly blurred, I could read: _Hevik Constructor -Vessel 248._

I dropped down the vessel part and gently replaced the container back into the cupboard. I closed the door, just as Clarissa spoke.

“All done. Let’s get out of here.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

We got everything from his computer. Every action ever performed on it had been retraced by the incredible technology of some alien race I’d never even heard of. The capability was frightening, and I felt that I would never comfortably sit in front of a screen ever again. Every image and every word… now in the investigative clutches of a universal superforce pulling at every string the political puppets had to offer. I was still yet to understand the scope of their abilities, despite being so close to one of its members. She was open about most things, but she had limits to that, self-imposed or not.

We arrived at the Yellowstone Centre in the dead of evening, merely hours after returning from the Dome Ship. Amara found a way to sneak us back off, taking advantage of the lax security that she had to pass to leave, which was much less stringent than that for those arriving.

I hoped never again to use that morph. If I could, I would rip the ability right out of myself. I hadn’t been traumatised by morphing for some time, but this would reinvigorate all of my worst nightmares.

In the end, we were back on Earth safe and sound. No complications, no injuries and no obvious consequences. There was, however, a deadline to meet, so we couldn’t sit back and allow the relief to bathe us in its warmth. We had to go through the computer history and find what we needed to use as a shield. If we could find evidence that the Andalites instigated the war, directly or not, then it would be mission success. But, of course, that was no easy process. The computer would have been running for potentially years. We had a lot of work on our hands.

We arrived back at my home, more to reassure Ronnie than anything else. We embraced tightly; so tight that it made me doubt I’d only been gone a day or so. I could feel the fear in his grasp, and his words were a telling insight into the dark corners his mind had wandered. All this time, he had seen me settle into the closest-to-normal life I could possible get. Now, that mirage was scattered, and he had been mulling over the possibilities of what my role and reputation could entail. It was inevitable and we both knew it. There was no need for secrecy anymore. The worst thing for him, now, was that he knew he couldn’t help when I would need it the most.

Toby had anticipated our return, as I knew she would. Now that we were back into the safety of the park, she was eager to provide as much help as could be allowed. She joined us at the Yellowstone Centre where the formidable task greeted with encompassing arms.

My office was spacious enough for all four of us, and also housed any equipment we might need: Scanners, printers, stationary and a hungry paper shredder. That shredder would be particularly busy. Clarissa was given command of the computer and used it to pick at the stolen data piece-by-piece. Anything unimportant was deleted. Anything suspicious was printed and designated to whoever was free to inspect it. Documents that passed our tests as relevant, we kept aside. Everything else was shredded. Nobody could know we’d accessed it.

We prepared for the long-haul with snacks and caffeine. It could have taken us right up to the deadline, and each hour that passed would increase the stress upon us. We needed something, and the pile of papers we deemed relevant was worryingly small. We had to continue.

It would have been fine, but there was one more issue: Amara was growing increasingly curious. I was happy that she’d seen the mission through as intended, and that she was on our side despite her stinging attitude, but she was showing increasing frustration at our vague explanations of the technology Clarissa had used to steal the War Commander’s data.

<It’s far beyond Human technology,> She grumbled. <I’m not trying to belittle your race, but you aren’t advanced enough to have such a capability!>

“I’ve told you!” Clarissa said back. “It’s, like, top secret stuff. We don’t just go shoving it in peoples’ faces, you know. That would be dumb!”

<You’re telling me that you saved… _all this data _on such a tiny device?! It’s impossible! There must be several hundred terabytes. More, maybe!>

“Could you just, like, shut up?” Clarissa grumbled, her eyes refusing to leave the screen before her.

<Tell me to shut up…> Amara seethed quietly. It was just one more tense exchange in a long line that the pair had indulged in. Thankfully, it came to an anti-climax each time. It was not the type of subject to result in an all-out shouting battle. I interjected whenever I felt it went on too long, and Toby avoided it altogether. She disliked Amara, and that much was clear despite them barely conversing since they’d met.

I was soul-deep into a document written by one of the War Commander’s subordinates. The first paragraph mentioned the _Gratt _Border, so I thought I might be onto something. Three pages in, and the tingling of possibility was gently subsiding. It was a document about ship logistics during a voyage from one sector of Andalite Space to another. The _Gratt _Border was merely mentioned as a point of reference for part of the transit. I sighed emptily and reached over to persuade the papers into the waiting shredder.

“There’s something here about the request for a new line of Fighters,” Toby said. She was beside me, dutifully flicking pages with monstrous claws. “Dated three months before the border was breached.”

“I’d say an order for new war ships is relevant,” I considered. “Keep that one?”

Toby took the pile and placed it neatly on the pitiful collection we had gathered. Five hours in, and the worthy documents added up to barely a centimetre-think wad of pages. What made it worse was that the Andalite written language was bulky, and not much information could be held upon an A4 sheet, so the pile’s size was also deceiving.

<New ships are ordered all the time,> Amara spoke, seven fingers delved cosily into the canyons of a paper stack. <It’s nothing out of the ordinary.>

“I think it could help,” I replied. “I’ll take anything I can.”

<What we need is an RFA.>

I turned my blurring, tired eyes up toward her. “RFA?”

<Request for Action. Whenever a plan is put forward, it goes in the form of an RFA to an _Ammarumor _who gives the final say on whether it is permitted. Even the War Commander would have to submit them.>

I thought about it for a moment. “But if… But if he wants it to seem like an accident, or somebody else’s actions, wouldn’t he avoid sending an RFA?”

<_Everything _goes through the process. The _Ammarumor _doesn’t have to tell anybody. The requests are strictly confidential. The War Commander could send in a request to use you Animorphs as bait to start a war, and frame you for the actions, and the _Ammarumor_ will simply give a yes or a no. He can choose to withhold the information if he feels an action will benefit the people.>

“Clarissa?” I called to her.

“Seen a couple of them,” She said, chin rested in her palm and her elbow supporting on the oak desk. “Nothing, really.”

The topic had piqued Toby’s interest, and for the first time since we’d arrived she spoke directly to Amara. “So the War Commander can do absolutely anything and, so long as he can justify it as beneficial to the race, it can be put into force?”

<Yes.>

“How can we trust anything that you say?”

Amara glared with all four eyes, her hands retreating from their work and huddling in crossed-arms to her chest. <Excuse me?>

“Clearly, it is not beyond Andalite morality to bypass trustworthiness. How can we be sure that you have not been sent out to track our actions, since it would be within the boundaries of acceptability?”

<I can’t believe you’d even accuse me!> She blasted. <How dare you?!>

It could have turned nasty, so I leant forward to pierce their eye line. “Stop it, you two,” I insisted. “Toby, she’s helped so far. I think we should cut her some slack.”

<Yes,> Amara added. <Cut me some… What does that mean?>

“It means we give you a break till you screw up.” Clarissa helpfully informed.

Toby attempted to explain herself better, though her tone was still speckled with deep-ingrained distaste. “I don’t have any reason to suspect you. My point is simply that we cannot always trust what we’re told by officials. Anybody military.”

Amara huffed. <Caysath and I are wholly trustworthy. The things he’s put on the line for you…>

“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “I get what you mean though, Toby. What this _also_ means it that we have a good chance of finding something that we need. Let’s get back to it.”

We got nothing from that night. An hour before the majority of staff arrived, we got rid of the four large bags of shredded paper and decided that nothing we’d collected was worth further investigation. We started again the next night, once everybody else had left for home, and soldiered on despite lack of sleep. Amara was the last to join us, having to sneak in when it was certain we would be alone. Toby had settled into her fourth coffee of the evening, and her left leg had started to jitter. Clarissa, on the other hand, looked like she’d slept a thousand years. Must have been the incredible amount of make-up.

Finally, we made a breakthrough. I was blankly trudging through another seemingly pointless stocklist when Clarissa alerted us.

“Got something!” She sang, drumming on the computer desk. “Some plans and a joint RFA!”

It awoke us from the bitter daze we had slumbered into, and the three of us gravitated to the sole computer. We watched over Clarissa’s shoulders as she brought up as much as she could onto the dual screens. On the left was the RFA document, which at a glance was just another block of Andalite scribblings. On the right was a 2D chart, with colored indicators dotted around purposefully. Document headers made it clear that the content was highly classified information. Our tired eyes attempted to study it, but we would have to wait for copies to emerge from the hardworking A3 printer before we could really get in-depth. We hungrily snatched a copy each as they were completed. About ten sheets each.

Toby and I took our seats at the large table set out in the centre of the room, and we each completed an eager gulp of our coffees. Amara was at the opposite side, and for the first time Clarissa took her own copy to study, putting aside her computer duties. In our close square, we tore it up together.

In quick succession we found little nuggets of information, and detailed it out for all to hear. Pens were drawn, highlighters working overtime.

“Preparation for the likely oncoming of Kelbrid Survey vessels…” Toby quoted from the RFA. “It details likely breach points on the _Gratt _Border. Andal war ship positions. This is definitely what we’ve been looking for.”

“It’s all stuff about actions after war breaks out,” I noted, thumbing through the pages I’d started on. It was already dripping with ink from my eagle-eyed pen. “Nothing about how they see it starting.”

<Are you certain about that?> Amara said with a knowing smile. She pushed forward a sheet of paper into the centre of the table, and that brought everybody’s attention to it. She placed a delicate finger to one passage of writing. <Read this.>

I scoured it quickly, turning my head to read it as upright as I could. Personnel numbers and locations, vessel distance capabilities, navigational jargon…

Projected losses? Fuel, rations, Reserve Vessel 18-B.

“Reserve Vessel 18-B?” I asked.

<Any idea which vessel that may be?>

Clarissa caught on, and moved to retake her place at the computer. “Hold on, I can find it.”

“They would project the loss of a particular ship?” Toby pondered, scratching at her chin. “Do some ships have sacrificial purposes?”

<Not _Andalite _ships,> Amara replied. <Reserve ships are one of two types: Uncommissioned, or captured. What was the ship you used to enter Kelbrid Space?> She asked of me.

“It was a Mak ship called _The Shadow._”

She smiled again. <I suspect that it was actually called Reserve Vessel 18-B…>

It made perfect sense. However, we needed more. “We should find some more. There’s got to be something about what they expect to happen to it.”

“I think I may have already found its purpose.” Toby said. Her huge claw dropped onto the 2D chart, which already had the _Gratt _Border indicated by a yellow highlight. The tip of her claw landed just below the simple outline of a vessel, planted just barely on the Andalite side of the border, heading inwards to Andalite Space. I squinted to read the tiny writing beneath it: RV18B.

“Looks like it’s breaching the border,” I said. “Anything about the crew?”

Both Amara and Toby began to sniff through the remaining pages for details. Clarissa whistled me over. “Got it. Yeah, that’s _The Shadow_, alright. 18-B: captured Mak transporter.

I nodded. “We need to find who the crew of 18-B were.”

“On it.”

I sprang back to the main table and glanced at Toby, who was busy in her search. I noted what page she was on, and found the following one to scan through. We were so close…

“Undisclosed.”

I looked back up to her. “Huh?”

She had her eyes pinpointed to a section on the page. “Reserve Vessel 18-B crew: Undisclosed.”

I sank. Just slightly. “Nothing else?”

<Not that I can see.> Amara replied.

“I wonder why it’s undisclosed…” I hummed, knowing fully why.

We unearthed nothing else from those documents, no matter how hard we tried to read between the lines. We knew that our vessel was being used as bait, and that its inhabitants were kept secret, but we had no solid proof that the Andalites had instigated the war, or that they had sent us into Kelbrid Space.

It would be enough to spare our names. No longer would we… _they_ be the criminals that started the war.

And if we could find proof that the Andalites had aimed to start a war, then it could have been enough to hold off their military police. Nobody would be arrested. It was still a hope at this point…

But so far, there was no mention of us. Clarissa had gone through documents that had been written and received during the time that we were living on the Dome Ship, and we hadn’t even been registered. There was something about Earthling blood samples being taken, but nothing more specific than that. Our names had clearly been whitewashed. Again, I don’t think that was a mistake.

Then Clarissa went back further, and found one of the War Commander’s mail exchanges.

“Come take a look, Cass.” She said.

I put aside my papers, grabbed my coffee, and shambled over to her. “Yeah?”

“Found some emails between Ol’ Torch and a Prince based in Rexburg Andalite Space Port. Prince Wyverrit. Sound familiar?”

My eyes bolted fully open. That certainly rang a bell. “You serious?!”

Clarissa gleamed and rolled her swivel-seat aside for me to look a little closer. I strained my eyes to see.

It was a short exchange, but it was just what we needed. As close to the perfect piece of evidence we could ever hope to find.

_War Commander Torceran-Ehlar-Alaxalim, this message for you only,_

_In summary: RASP has taken custody of the Humans Jake Berenson and Marco Delvalle, as well as the Human-nothlit Tobias, all three of whom were members of the self-named Animorphs. I write to inform and take your advice._

_In detail: The three aforementioned individuals arrived at the Rexburg Andalite Space Port with no additional persons. Security escorted the trio, whereupon I had them arrested and taken into our temporary custody. They informed me, my Commander, that they were wishing to continue a search for the missing Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, service number 800582882, who disappeared with the crew of the Intrepid, tasked with a Yeerk Scouting mission. They claimed to have been searching with stolen Andalite craft for a total of fourteen months, but, in their own words, “blacked out”, and woke up back on Earth the day preceding their arrival to RASP. I had them placed under arrest for the crimes of military theft, that being of the two Andalite vessels reported stolen. They remain in my custody, and are being cared for IAW Prisoner Regulations I-10103._

_My Commander and Leader, I write to ask for your advice regarding the aforementioned prisoners, as you have made clear your intention to see them prosecuted to the full extent of Andal law. I assure that any transport deemed necessary will be put in place by RASP and associates._

_Your loyal servant,_

_Prince Wyverrit_ _-Gurneff-Brooghur, Cdr of Rexburg Andalite Space Port._

Prince Wyverrit’s message was followed by a much less formal reply from Torch.

_Wyverrit,_

_That’s very pleasing news. Congratulations on the capture and the report you shall soon receive. Regarding the morph-capable Earthlings, I am able to gainfully employ them. Arrange for their transport to the Dome Ship Rise from the Shadows. I will be there._

_Disclose no information to them. Their presence will remain classified. Ensure that this exchange is destroyed after reading._

_War Commander Torceran-Ehlar-Alaxalim._

There it was. Evidence that at least some of us had been captured by the Andalites, and dated just before Reserve Vessel 18-B was launched.

“Print it off,” I asked of Clarissa. “At least ten copies. Think you can keep them hidden somewhere safe?”

“Oh, you bet!”

“Okay. Time to get some sleep. I think it’s deserved.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Ahurk and Hurpen arrived exactly when they said they would, but I felt suitably prepared for their confrontation. I saw them approaching from Toby’s office window up on the second floor, winding their way over the snowy path, the cold barely stealing a shiver from either one of them.

“Time to go.” I sighed, removing myself from the window frame decorated with small potted plants.

Clarissa was quick to give me an encouraging embrace. “Go kick ass, Cass.”

Toby was in her custom-made desk chair, feet kicked up on the desk. “If there are any issues, we will do all we can to help.”

Clarissa huffed at her. “Chill, Toby! Cass has this nailed.”

“I am very _chill_.” Toby replied.

“Thanks,” I told them both with a smile. “I’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take too long.”

I left Toby’s office, feeling fresh and ready, the sensation only heightened by the clean scent of the Yellowstone Centre. I walked by rows of computer desks to the far side of the building and took the elevator down to the first floor, just in time to catch the Andalite officers as they entered and approached the reception desk. They spotted me immediately, and we all simultaneously indicated to the same office we had spoken in before. Again, it was empty, and perfect for our use.

“Good afternoon.” I said politely to them.

<Good day.> Ahurk, the lighter-colored one spoke, with a bland, uninterested tone. He barely gave me a glance, but for one curious stalk eye.

I opened the door for them, and they strolled inside. Hurpen gave an equally bored _thank you, _and I followed them in, the door closing behind. They stood into exactly the same spots as they had done previously, inviting me to take a seat at the opposite side of the lone desk. I took my brown work bag from my shoulder and leant it against the seat that I rested into.

<Ms Roberts,> Ahurk started. <Last week, we set a deadline for you to give us the information we require. Now is that deadline.>

I nodded. “I know.”

Hurpen retrieved a small recording device from a utility belt strapped around his waist and placed it between us on the desk. <Anything said within this meeting shall be recorded for our purposes. Be very aware of what you say, Ms Roberts.>

“I will.”

<You remember our previous meeting,> Ahurk asserted, tapping all fingers of one hand against the desk. <If you refuse to give us the information that we require, then you will be placed under arrest and charged for the crimes you have committed. If you think you’ll get away with some minor punishment or fine, then you are mistaken. Come on, Ms Roberts, this is your last chance.>

I sat back, probably looking far more relaxed than I truly felt. “What information?”

<Don’t feign ignorance!> Ahurk seethed. <You are not that stupid!>

“I don’t know anything,” I said, slowly raising my hands as a show of innocence. “You can’t threaten me into knowing something that I don’t know.”

<Foolish Human…> Hurpen spat. <We know that you know. Tell us!>

“No.”

The pair was irate, and their tail blades shuddered behind them. <Then you shall suffer the law of our people.> Ahurk said.

“I don’t think so.” I responded calmly.

<Perhaps you _are _dumber than we give you credit for,> Hurpen accused. <Ms Roberts, consider this your arrest.>

I decided that it was time to pull out my weaponry. I lifted the work bag from beside me and into my lap. The Andalites stuttered and watched on quizzically.

<What are you doing?> Ahurk pressed.

I answered with a reveal of a blue card folder, placing it delicately beside the recorder in the centre of the desk. I opened the flap to let the innards slip out into a messy pile, a series of stapled documents on crisp white paper.

“If you arrest me,” I told them. “Then this will go public.”

The Andalites glared, both at me and at the documents. Ahurk picked up the first of them. <Is this some joke? Please, Ms Roberts, accept the severity of this->

He stopped mid-sentence, and I couldn’t help but smile as all four of his eyes shot like magnets to the page. Hurpen noticed his fellow’s abrupt stop, and rummaged through what was left in front of them.

<What is this?> Ahurk demanded with a clear smattering of confusion in his voice.

“Those are war plans,” I explained. “Preparations for the Kelbrid war. Charts, stores requests, personnel designations… A couple RFAs from War Commander Torceran, signed by an _Ammarumor._”

<How did you gain access to these documents?!> Hurpen questioned.

“Does it matter?”

<These are highly restricted documents!> He said. <Such information would never be passed onto you!>

I shrugged. “Well, I have it.”

<Who gave them to you?> Ahurk asked. <Whoever passed on these documents has committed a crime with high penalty. Tell us who gave them.>

I shrugged again. “I found them. I work around a lot of Andalites. Sometimes things just turn up where they shouldn’t.”

<I don’t believe that for a second,> He said. <These were stolen! And if you refuse to tell us who by, then you will only be lengthening your own imprisonment!>

“And everybody will know _exactly _what happened. Those papers prove that we didn’t start the war. You did.”

The pair went back into the documents, frantically now, laying out exactly what I had shown them so that the picture was clear.

I explained further while they perused it. “It shows that your military placed us on Reserve Vessel 18-B, the Mak vessel to be used as bait to lead the Kelbrid forces over the _Gratt _Border. It shows how they manipulated us in such a way that we could be blamed. It shows how, all along, the Andalites were going to start another war with the Kelbrids. It backfired, and now all the Andalites and their allies will suffer. Arrest me, and everybody, all Andalite people and their allies, will know.”

<You have nothing to release.> Ahurk sneered, pulling the folders and its contents towards him and out of my immediate reach.

“You think those are my only copies? You really think I’m that stupid?”

<You cannot release anything when you’re locked away in a cell.> Hurpen said. He seemed to be striking a triumphant pose, but it was inherently weak.

“If you so much as remove me from this building,” I said slowly and firmly. “Then copies will be sent automatically. To everybody. Human governments. The Ssstram. The Hrri. The Leerans. Everybody. Every Andalite ally who might find offense in being put in danger by Andalite callousness.”

They took their time over it, at first in disbelief that I could ever find the evidence I’d put forward, but then it began to dawn on them. The documents were clearly genuine, and were also damning. Their confidence was draining through their hooves, and I soaked it up like a sponge.

Then their page-fumbling slowed. I could tell that they were speaking privately. After that, Hurpen collected all of the files, placed them in the folder and clamped it neatly beneath his arm. <Excuse us, Ms Roberts. We must confabulate. Stay in this room.>

And with that, they left, abandoning me in silence. I could only wait for their return and wonder what it was they were doing. I suspected that they felt the matter too weighty, and were in contact with somebody further up the chain. Perhaps the War Commander himself.

No matter who it was, I knew for certain that I would no longer be considered an ally. Not by the military. Perhaps by civilians, so long as the military didn’t attempt to tarnish my name.

It all depended on how I handled this. If I could do it right, I could maintain my relationship with the civilians. I had nothing against them at all.

They took their time with whoever they were talking to, but when they finally came back into the room, they had gained back very little of the confidence they had initially arrived with. They seemed somewhat shaken. Whoever they’d talked to had obviously given them quite a hiding.

<Ms Roberts,> Ahurk restarted. <It appears you’ve complicated matters. Will you not disclose the source of this information?>

“No.” I reinstated firmly.

Ahurk rubbed a frustrated hand against his face and took a moment. <You are making a huge mistake,> He said. <And a powerful enemy. Nobody wanted this, Ms Robert, but you are fast making it happen. You would be foolish to hold onto such information.>

“I’d be even more foolish to give it up.” I countered.

Hurpen grunted with restrained agitation. <Look, if you return the information and clear it from wherever it is kept, we will be willing to drop the charges on you.>

“That’s your offer?”

<That is our offer.>

I shook my head. “I have a better offer: How about I keep the information, and you clear my name and my friends of any charges. All of them. You are not to tarnish our image in any way, for anybody. In return, I won’t spread word that the military has perpetrated this lie. Your secrets will be safe with me.”

It wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but surely they didn’t expect me to go unchallenged. I had the upper hand, and I wasn’t going to give that up.

Ahurk replied, <If you hold onto this information, then you will forever be a target, Ms Roberts. An enemy of the most powerful military. You don’t really want that, do you? You would be destroyed, one way or the other.>

I smiled. “And the moment that happens, you would be, too. If _anything_ happens to me, then the lie is exposed. I don’t hold the information. You’ll never find out who does.”

They had no solution to their problem. I could see it in their defeated expressions, once so proud and confident. Hurpen was holding the file beneath his arm, clutching it as if it could fall at any moment. I wouldn’t get it back, but I didn’t need to. He would run to his superiors and hope that they were in a good mood. The War Commander himself, Ol’ Torch, would hear of this.

And that was good. It was a much-needed leash around his neck. He’d far-outstepped his bounds already. If I had to be the enemy, so be it. Somebody had to be.

The Andalites left. I wasn’t arrested. They didn’t bother to ask me again where my friends were. They knew that I was now a real danger, a threat to their reputation. Perhaps they would try again someday, but for now, we were safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

“I’ve read it three times. You’re my biggest role model.”

I grinned, a little more genuinely this time. The red-haired girl couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, yet she had an outward maturity far beyond her years. “Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”

“Everybody always talks about what you did during the war,” She continued. “But I like the chapters after that stuff mostly. What you do now.”

“Like sign books?” I chuckled.

“No, I mean what you do in Washington and Yellowstone. I love it.”

I smiled again, touched. “What’s your name?”

“Rachel.”

The name brought back memories and feelings that would often remain repressed. I became aware of my own hesitance, and shook it off to write a personal message on the inside cover of the book laid before me in thick black ink.

_To Rachel, _

_ There is no enemy greater than our own shame. Be proud of what you can and will do, and you will overcome any obstacle. Become your own role model._

_ Your friend, Cassie._

I closed the cover, only to stare into an inky mirror. _The War in My Words, _the title said, and it was indeed a title of many meanings for me. It was an autobiography I was practically forced into writing, but once the deal was done I insisted on writing every last word myself, without edits. I laid it out truthfully, including every thought and feeling that would trespass my consciousness at the best and worst times. The guilt and shame, the hurt and the numbness. But also the triumph. The gratitude I had for friends.

Rachel left, and soon the line of people began to shorten as the book store headed towards closing time. I was tired of signing, and my hand had started to cramp up from hours of torment. Just as I felt the need to take a break, the last person in line said a thank you and wandered off with his very own signed copy clutched faithfully to his chest.

I must have signed a few hundred. After the few years post-war, I expected a drop in attention when the War became just another memory, but it never did. I was still Cassie the hero. Cassie the saviour of Earth. Cassie the Animorph.

We all were, and perhaps it would always remain. It explained why I’d become something of a political force, but only Toby had taken anything close to an official title. I’d been told by several that I should consider running for some political party when I reached a more mature age, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bog myself down in that. I felt that, somewhere down the line, I’d become just another sell-out.

I put aside the remaining unsigned books and the daydreaming, and took a deep breath, like I’d forgotten to take one for a minute or so. Only then did I realise that somebody was casting a shadow from the opposite side of my little table. The deep-red hair and blue eyes took only a moment to recall.

“Amara?” I gasped. Then I looked around, seeing if anybody was paying attention. I shouldn’t have blurted out her name. I sat closer. “What are you doing here?”

The Andalite in Human morph smiled. “I came to see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you since we solved your little problem.”

“Isn’t there a better time?” I asked.

“When is there ever a good time for you?” She asked sincerely.

“Good point…” I said with a sad chuckle. “It’s just a little dangerous.”

“My Human morph is unknown to the military,” She reassured. “I acquired it under Caysath’s guidance back on Andal from blood samples. No military involvement. It’s safe.”

“Well, okay…” I said, nodding. I was still curious, though, why she wished to visit. “Did you want a signed book?

She laughed haughtily and shook her head. “A signed book? Please… What a primitive tradi-… No, thank you. I came for something more serious.”

“Yeah?” I said. “What it is?”

“My training came to a break, recently. I’m technically on a holdover, which means I have very little to do for quite some time until I am given a position aboard a Dome Ship. I have spoken to Caysath, and I would like to offer you my ship. Whenever you require it.”

I was shocked, it was fair to say. I certainly didn’t expect it from her. “Really? Wow, that’s… Thanks.”

“And before you say anything, yes, Caysath did help persuade me. He calls me brutish and stubborn and arrogant. I guess this is my way of trying to reshape myself. Is that something Humans do?”

“Make amends? Sounds about right,” I replied. “I think you’d have to say a few things to Toby and Clarissa, too, but yeah, this is a great way to start.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh… Do I have to?”

“No, but it would be good if you did.”

She accepted that begrudgingly. “Very well. Here, I have a communications device for you.” She reached into a scruffy brown backpack and pulled out a typical, bland Andalite communicator. Like a phone, but… well, you know how advanced Andalites are. It would be vastly superior to any Human phone. I took it and quickly shoved it into my denim jacket pocket. “If you need me, my friend, you can call. If those officers give you trouble again, or you need to get somewhere fast.”

I stood up to appear less formal to her. “Thanks, Amara. Really, thanks. I’m not sure how much I’ll need you for… _that _kind of thing, but you can always come visit sometime.”

“Yes, so long as there is good food. You Humans are very good at that, just as you’re very good at having the most mysterious and unfathomable charm…”

I laughed. “Never heard Humans described like that before, but I’ll take it.”


End file.
